


The Last Changeling

by Taylor Dancinghands (tdancinghands)



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Episode Related, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slash, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-03
Updated: 2012-05-03
Packaged: 2017-11-04 18:43:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 92,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/397009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tdancinghands/pseuds/Taylor%20Dancinghands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney McKay is a Changeling: a human kidnapped by fairies and raised by them, in the Fae Realms, while a false duplicate (with a fiery expiration date of ten years) was raised by his parents. Exiled back in the Mortal world at age 14, he eventually comes to find a place at the SGC, inevitably becoming Head of Sciences of the Atlantis Expedition. There a great number of Fae and half Fae find a place, both in the civilian and military ranks, including his head engineer -a full blooded werewolf, the CMO -a 300 year old centaur, and the Military leader of the expedition, who is secretly a vampire.</p><p>Unexpected friendships and more are formed, as the expedition discovers the secrets of Atlantis and finds a way to survive and make allies in the distant Pegasus Galaxy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Featuring: Changeling!McKay, Werewolf!Zelenka, Vampire!Sheppard, Centaur! Beckett & others

**The Last Changeling**

  
_Excerpt from: Fragile Pacts and Uneasy Truces: _A History of political detente between the Mortal World and the Fae Realms_ , Dr. David Erskine Stiles, Cambridge University Press, 2005_

  
Though the first Fae-Mortal Accords were negotiated as far back as the dawn of Christendom in Europe and the invention of gunpowder in China, these accords remained in flux and in need of renegotiating repeatedly during the millennium that followed. The last several major negotiations frequently pertained to the ongoing conflict between the two Fae races considered to be the last two races created by those mysterious ancient beings known to the Fae as 'The First Makers': the Wolves and the Night Hunters.  
  
As with much of their history, Fae folk have been consistently reluctant to share anything about the origins of this conflict, more akin to a blood feud, but the discord, between the creatures known to most Mortals as Werewolves and Vampires, has remained a disruptive element throughout the history of Fae and Mortal relations. Opinions vary on whether either of these races are capable of taking part in any civilized society -modern laws governing these two races differ from nation to nation and reflect these varying opinions- and it is certainly true that where conflicts, often vicious and bloody, have broken out between these two peoples, Mortals have been too often caught in the crossfire.  
  
Nonetheless, the Accords of 1816, establishing a system of accountability for leaders of both the Wolves and the Night Hunters, have brought about an era of relative peace, lending weight to the theory that these two races are, in fact, capable of obeying a rule of law. This does not mean that feelings have changed among members of those races, and the peace between them remains a fragile one. For this reason, most modern nations have laws regulating the behavior and lives of Wolves and Night Hunters, segregating them in schools, the workplace and in their dwellings. These measures are, naturally, controversial, but remain in force in most nations due to their simple, practical, necessity.  
  
The Accords of 1816 -the last major renegotiation of the pact between Fae and Mortals- also served to establish the rights of Fae and part Fae citizens to move freely between Mortal nations, binding them to the same laws of commerce and trade as Mortals, and assuring the end of the practice of taking 'changelings' in all but a very few cases.  
  
This was a harder fought victory than many are aware, as the Fae folk have always held as sacred their right to take certain mortal infants and exchange them with 'time sensitive', imperfect replacements, as traumatic as this practice is to Mortal families. Fae Elders have, over the course of history, remained closed lipped about the reason for and importance of this practice, and have steadfastly refused to agree to any absolute moratorium. Even today there remain certain clauses -sealed in secrecy to all but a very few Mortal and Fae leaders- which allow the taking of changelings, though the circumstances are thought to be peculiarly specific, and the practice is almost unknown in the modern era."  
  
  
***

 

_Toronto Herald-Star, April 29, 1982:_

**  
**Canadian, Fae Representatives Reach Settlement in 'Changeling' Case** **

  
(AP) Ottawa - The Canadian government announced today that, after lengthy negotiations, mediated by the UN Secretary for Otherworldly Affairs, authorities from the Fae Realms have agreed to take responsibility for providing living and education expenses for a 14 year old Vancouver boy. The boy was separated as an infant from his natural parents by as yet unnamed Fae folk, and replaced with an imperfect simulacrum, or 'changeling', which self destructed upon its tenth year of 'life'. The actual child, meanwhile, was raised in the Fae Realms, the two Fae folk who stole him becoming his self-appointed, adoptive parents.  
  
The fourteen year-old was granted his first visit 'home' three months ago, under the terms of a traditional 'Gift Taboo', and when that taboo was broken, he was made an exile from the Fae Realms, presumably to take up life with his natural parents. Social workers have issued reports, however, stating that the estrangement between the teenager and his natural family was too great, and all parties have agreed that he may become a ward of the state until an Emancipation finding may be made. This decision necessitated the Canadian government's suing the Fae authorities for the cost of the boy's upkeep and living expenses six weeks ago, and yesterday a settlement was reached which included fairly generous higher education costs for the boy, who is reported to possibly be of genius level intelligence.  
  
The archaic practice of taking 'changelings' by Fae folk was thought by many to be banned in the Fae-Mortal Accords of 1816 but, authorities revealed as part of this new settlement, certain allowances remain, though the nature of those allowances continue to be a secret. What is known about those allowances, however, is that they are exceedingly narrow, and Fae Elders have reportedly promised to raise the bar even higher for Fae folk applying for permission to take such actions in the future. If this is truly the case, then young M. R. McKay may, in fact, be history's last changeling.  
  
****


	2. Tale the First: Claim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rodney McKay knew that Radek Zelenka was a werewolf when he hired him, but he didn't know how perfectly they would come to work together, nor just how deep the wolf's devotion ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episode Based: Spoilers for early Season 1, particularly "38 Minutes" and "The Storm"

**Tale the First: Claim**

 

 

Rodney McKay first really noticed Radek Zelenka after the whole wretched business of being stuck in a space gate while Ford had some giant tick stuck to his neck. Of course, he must have noticed Zelenka to some extent, earlier, when he hired the man and made him head of engineering, particularly considering all the flack he'd gotten for appointing a werewolf to the number two science post. The man's work spoke for itself, however, and it was the only argument that had ever mattered to Dr. Rodney McKay.

All that had been so very yesterdays papers, however, when Rodney had desperately thrown the challenge of instantly mapping the jumper's command pathways into Zelenka's lap, and he hadn't necessarily expected results. Results were what he had gotten, however, and they had been very satisfactory results indeed. They were so satisfactory that Rodney had actually felt obliged to seek the man out (after he'd seen that Ford was going to be okay) and commend him for the work... and possibly mention that he was grateful for Zelenka's part in saving his life.

Helping to save your superior's life is definitely a good way to get noticed, especially in the Pegasus Galaxy.

Rodney noticed Zelenka even more, later that night, when they went together to get more coffee and a snack from the mess, and Rodney realized that Zelenka could actually keep up with ninety nine percent of what he enthusing about. He realized something terribly important that day: he could trust Radek Zelenka.

Rodney hadn't let himself trust anyone in a good long time, but Rodney McKay was not a stupid man. He had learned quickly enough that you didn't survive on Atlantis without trust. You couldn't. Even knowing that, however, it came as a surprise for Rodney to learn that he was trusted too.

Sheppard trusted him. He'd seen that in the same wretched misadventure with the stuck jumper and the giant tick. Sheppard hadn't panicked -even when Rodney had- hadn't lost his temper, hadn't yelled at him. He'd just calmly told Rodney to shut up and keep working, as if he actually believed that Rodney could fix the thing. By the end of that day, Rodney had realized that Sheppard hadn't just believed in him, he'd been sure.

Although, it seemed to Rodney, that John Sheppard didn't seem to trust much of anyone, he had trusted Rodney to save their butts on the jumper, trusted him to keep his head among the Genii, even trusted him to conduct an ultimately pointless experiment with the gate on M5S-224, and didn't seem to trust him any less after the whole thing turned out to be a giant waste of time. Rodney had known what it was to trust and be trusted, long ago, but that had all been shattered the day he accepted a tiny bouquet of dandelions and wilted violets from a little girl who turned out to be the sister he hadn't known he had.

That was the day that Rodney McKay's childhood had ended, the day he had become an exile from the only home he had ever known, and the day he realized that the trust he'd had for others, and the trust he'd thought they'd had in him was nothing but ashes. It had been a hard and painful lesson, and one Rodney was determined never to repeat, yet somehow he'd come to let himself trust again, and come to see that he was trusted, here on Atlantis. Even now, when he knew that it was all shortly to become ashes again, he could not bring himself to regret it.

Rodney knew that the trust Sheppard, Zelenka, Dr Weir and and more than a few others had once held for him would become a thing of the past the moment the knife wielding, uniformed thug standing in front of him put his blade to Rodney's flesh one more time. He knew he was going to spill everything, in spite of how much he didn't want to, because he wasn't strong enough, because he'd already been cut twice, each time more deeply, because Rodney knew the Genii soldier was going to keep cutting until Rodney talked, and he knew that there wasn't anyone to come and save him any time soon, because he was afraid.

"Now, Dr McKay," Acastus Kolya's gravelly baritone matched his merciless, weather hardened countenance. "I will ask you again: what is your plan for saving Atlantis?"

With his last, desperate shreds of determination, Rodney pressed his lips together and shook his head, even as the words, _Please, please, please don't... don't hurt me... I'll tell, I'll tell you everything if you'll just stop..._ hammered at the back of his consciousness. They'd find his tongue soon enough, along with the taste of ashes he could almost feel there already. Oh god, there was the knife, tip pressing against his skin again, pressing harder, inexorably, beginning the next cut and Rodney felt a whimper shamefully forming in the back of his throat...

And then, without warning, there was a snarling, gray blur, flying through the doorway, striking the man with the knife with shocking force, full in the chest. The man shouted as the knife clattered to the floor, and then he was making a horrible gargling, choking noise, writhing on the floor as his throat was torn out. The wolf lifted its head when the man fell still at last, blood streaking its muzzle, cold, killing fury shining from its yellow eyes, and in that split second of silence Rodney heard the sound of Kolya's pistol being cocked.

In less time than it took for Rodney to draw an astonished breath, the wolf had knocked him to the floor, upending his chair as it leaped up onto the desk Kolya sat behind. It went for his throat, even as the Genii commander fired and Rodney cried out in fear, but the shot went wide -he saw the bullet mar the decorative texturing high over the door frame- and then the wolf was upon him.

Kolya was a savvy fighter, though, and flung his arm over his throat before the wolf could sink its teeth into it. The move cost him his weapon, but it saved his life, giving him the chance to roll aside, out from under the attacking animal, and lunge for the door. The wolf lunged after him, but Kolya was quick, staggering to his feet even as he reached the doorway, and then he was gone, racing out of Dr Weir's office and down the stairs to the gate room.

Rodney fully expected to animal to pursue, for a wolf can easily outrace even a fast man, but it stopped at the doorway, watching to make sure that the Genii leader had truly gone, then turned back toward Rodney, its gaze meeting his directly. The yellow eyes seemed to express... concern now, instead of the lethal fury of a moment before, and Rodney realized then just who it had to be.

"Zelenka?!" Rodney asked, a trifle incredulously.

The wolf gave a remarkably expressive huff and moved back into the office, coming to stand next to Rodney, reaching a cautious nose out toward the ugly mess of cut jacket and blood on Rodney's arm. Reflexively, Rodney flinched back.

"It's fine," he snapped, letting his irritation cover the shame he felt at nearly giving the game away. "But it won't be if you get your nasty dog germs all over it."

The wolf -Zelenka's- snort really did sound like a laugh this time, and he lifted his head to take careful hold of the shoulder of Rodney's jacket, tugging him toward the door.

"What?" Rodney shook himself, feeling the adrenaline in his system slowly beginning to ebb as he stood. "Oh... Dr Weir is in the conference room. I think there's only one guy guarding her right now."

Strange, Rodney thought, picking up Kolya's gun as he made his way our of Weir's office, how even now they seemed to be on the same wavelength, so to speak, just as they were when they worked together. Together Rodney and Zelenka made their way silently across the control room, passing the body of the young Genii technician who'd been trying to hack into Atlantis' system. His throat had been torn out as well -all the better for killing him without a sound.

Rodney glanced back across at the sleek shape of the wolf, coming to a halt just outside the open door to the conference room. He'd never seen Zelenka in his wolf form before, and was currently having a hard time seeing the scruffy, nervous Czech engineer in this creature, who killed so silently and efficiently. Zelenka herded him back away from the doorway as he approached, bossing Rodney around here just as he did in his own engineering lab -so maybe this wasn't so unlike the Radek Zelenka he knew after all.

The steady, serious gaze Zelenka directed at him a moment later served to communicate his intentions well enough, as well. "You want me to stay here while you take out the guy watching Elizabeth," he said. It wasn't a question, and the wolf confirmed him with a brisk nod, turning to crouch just to the left of the doorway.

"I am still coming in there the moment I hear anything I don't like," Rodney stage-whispered. Radek did not even glance back at him, but crept forward instead, with astonishing speed and even more astonishing silence. Somehow his nails didn't even click on the hard metal floor. Standing back away from the doorway as instructed, Rodney could see nothing after Zelenka had disappeared into the conference room, but after a moment Rodney heard sudden, pained cry, a brief snarl, and then the sound of a gun going off.

There was no way Rodney was going to stay where he was after that, but he managed to refrain from rushing in. Instead he moved cautiously to the edge of the door, peering in carefully before entering, somewhat prepared for what he saw by the sound of scuffling, snarling and overturning chairs. The wolf had his teeth sunk deep into the Genii guard's thigh -the man had started screaming just as Rodney had stuck his head in- and he had dropped his pistol, probably when Zelenka had bitten his now badly bloodied right wrist. He had a knife in his left hand now, however, and was maneuvering to to get a good strike at the wolf as Elizabeth seemed to be trying to grab for it.

"Drop the knife!" Rodney cried as he stepped fully into the room, gun raised, and to his relief the Genii soldier did just that. Of course, he might also have been persuaded by Zelenka's jerking his head and tearing at the man's leg more deeply, for he began crying out loudly, "Please, get him off me! For god's sake get him off me!" even as he raised his hands.

Rodney said nothing, but Zelenka relented, shaking himself as he backed away. "Get his gun, Elizabeth," Rodney said then, walking into the room as he kept his weapon carefully trained on the Genii. The man was clearly out of the fight now, however, for he had slumped to the floor moments after he had dropped his knife, making choked, whimpering sounds as he curled around his injuries. He made not the least move to prevent Elizabeth from collecting his weapon from the floor next to him.

"Is that... Dr Zelenka?" she asked incredulously, glancing over at the wolf as the two of them backed away from the fallen Genii soldier. Zelenka raised his head, meeting Elizabeth's eyes, and this seemed to answer her question.

"Goodness," she remarked in surprise. "So what's the plan now?"

"I guess I can lock this guy in here," Rodney said after a moment. "And them, um... we should probably stay and guard the control room... that is, the two of you should do that while I keep the Genii out of Atlantis systems and try and set up a closed channel with Sheppard so we can let him know what's going on."

Elizabeth agreed, and Zelenka didn't seem inclined to dispute the notion, though he shortly began pacing the length of the control room restlessly, not bothering to keep his clicking nails silent now. Rodney was about to tell him to settle the hell down when the wolf ceased of his own accord, taking up a station near the top of the stairs down into the gateroom.

Rodney left the comms open as he worked, so they could hear the razor edged barbs Kolya and Sheppard tossed back and forth at one another. The Genii commander had evidently ordered his other men to radio silence, so they had no idea of how many of Kolya's men remained at large in the city, nor where they were. They got some idea about a few of them, however, when the sound of gunfire erupted over the comms, followed by a moment of silence, which was in turn followed by Sheppard's voice, cold with fury.

"FYI, Kolya," he said, the cordiality of his words conflicting with the harshness of his voice. "However many men you had coming after me, there's three less now."

"You'll pay for that, Sheppard," they heard Kolya's voice reply. "You'll pay with the blood of your own people and beg for my mercy."

It was an empty threat -Rodney, Elizabeth and Zelenka knew it- but they had no way of letting Sheppard know... not yet anyway. Rodney redoubled his efforts on the comm system, and was nearly ready to give it a try a few minutes later when a new voice announced itself over the open comm.

"Atlantis, this is the last jumper coming in from the mainland," Carson Beckett announced himself. "We're just now in the eye here, so we're taking the opportunity to make the flight. ETA in..."

"Radio silence for now please, Doctor," Elizabeth intruded from another station in the control room. "You're on an open channel. We're working on a secure channel and we'll let you know when we've got one."

"Aye, Elizabeth," Carson replied as Elizabeth looked across to where Rodney was working.

"And the ETA on that secure channel, Rodney?" she asked.

"Two minutes!" Rodney snapped impatiently, securing a last crystal and reaching for the panel covering. "What's the ETA on the storm surge?"

"Five minutes," she answered, glancing over at the radar scans of the storm.

"Dammit," Rodney muttered, making final adjustments. "There... we should have a secure channel now. Give it a try."

"Sheppard, this is Weir," Elizabeth tried immediately. "Do you read me?"

"Elizabeth?" Sheppard's voice was openly incredulous. The last he'd heard, Elizabeth had been Kolya's captive. "Are you...?"

"I'm fine," Elizabeth's words were clipped. "Rodney's set us up a secure comm channel. He and I... and Zelenka have secured the control room and Kolya is at large in the city looking for you, along with an unknown number of his people."

"Ask him about the grounding station!" Rodney called out.

"You've secured... how in the hell...? I mean, that's really good to hear but..." Sheppard was asking as Elizabeth relayed Rodney's question. "The grounding station is good," he answered, "but I still want to know how you managed..."

"There's no time for that," Rodney finally cut in from his own station. "The storm surge is going to be here in four minutes and I need you and the people from Beckett's jumper to be here in operations before I engage the shield. Anyone else in the corridors when I do that is going to end up seriously electrocuted."

"Got ya," Sheppard replied, now apprised of the urgency of the situation. "Gonna have to lose the couple of guys tailing me before I come in, so I may be cutting it close."

"Wouldn't want you to have to make anything less than a typical, Sheppard dramatic entrance," Rodney groused in reply, then contacted Carson to pass the same message. 

Of course, things just couldn't go smoothly. Teyla, Carson and Ford ended up having to scuffle with one of the Genii -the one that had evidently been a friend of Teyla's at some point. They came in with less than a minute to spare and the woman draped over Carson's back.

"Me mum always told me it was impolite to kick," he said a little mournfully as he laid the woman down carefully on the floor. "But the lass just wouldn't listen to sense."

"Didn't have the sense to stay away from your hooves, either," Ford smirked as he took up a station near the east entrance to the gate room. "So I'd say she got what she deserved."

"Where's Sheppard?" Teyla asked, taking up her own position near another entrance.

"He's coming in with a couple of Genii on his tail, he says," Elizabeth answered from the control room. "He knows he's on a tight schedule."

"And yet, he's still not here," Rodney complained, his voice giving away more open anxiety than he wished it would. Zelenka stood abruptly now, bounding down the stairs to take up guard at the west entrance to the gate room and bringing himself to the notice of those who had just arrived from the jumper.

"What...?" Teyla cried in shock, and Rodney reflected that she probably didn't know anything about Zelenka's other form, and had possibly never even seen an Earth wolf before. Carson sussed the situation immediately, however.

"Radek, lad?" he asked in surprise. "Is that you? What are you doin' here? Aren't you supposed to be on Menaria?"

"He was," Rodney grumbled, glancing between his control board and the radar scan of the approaching storm, nearly upon them. "He's going to have a lot of explaining to do, as soon as he can talk again."

Zelenka, Rodney observed, was paying no attention to any of this, however, but was standing now, whole body tense as he stared down the apparently empty corridor before him. It became evident a moment later, however, that it was not empty at all, as the sound of gunfire erupted from somewhere within.

"Come on Sheppard," Rodney muttered to himself, glancing back at his console, then down into the gateroom below. As if commanded by Rodney's plea, there came first the sound of running footsteps, then Sheppard himself appeared, skidding into the room and turning to face back the way he had come.

"Now, Rodney!" Elizabeth called, eyes on the radar scan, but Rodney needed no prompting. Hands flying over the console, he brought the jury rigged generation system on line, watching the read-outs spring to life.

"It's working," he announced. "It's just going to take a few seconds..." Then not even Rodney was paying any attention to the read-outs, because every weapon in the gateroom was now suddenly trained on the corridor Sheppard had just entered from, and Kolya was standing there at the threshold.

"Don't!" Rodney shouted furiously down from the control room. "Don't let him in!"

Radek, snarling viciously and hackles raised, seemed to agree.

"Drop your weapon!" Sheppard yelled, and now Rodney saw that the man clutched a knife. Kolya did not do as instructed, however, but stood on guard, knife held high in a defensive posture. Then there came the smell of ozone, and the terrifying crackle of the approaching electrical discharge.

To his credit, Kolya did not look over his shoulder. He knew the sound and smell of his approaching death for what it was, and in that moment of recognition, Rodney saw the Genii commander's expression grow feral. Rodney could see the humanity even on Radek's current countenance, but in Kolya's features now there was not a trace.

It took no more than a split second for the Genii to assess the possible opponents standing before him, and from among them he chose Zelenka. The wolf, acting on his own keen instincts, knew Kolya's choice even as he made it, and they lept toward each other simultaneously.

The two combatants came together in a snarling tangle of limbs, fangs and a flashing knife blade. Rodney cried out Zelenka's name in dismay, torn between the need to stay in the control room to monitor the city's lightning powered shield and his desire to stand ready to help. Sheppard, Teyla and Ford all had their guns trained on the fight, however, and there was nothing they could do until they had a clear shot. Rodney knew there wasn't anything he'd be able to contribute there, but his expertise was sure to be needed in the control room, and so he stayed, even when he heard a sudden, pained yelp from Zelenka in the fight below.

"Dammit, Zelenka," Rodney heard Sheppard say. "Back off and give us a shot!" Watching helplessly from above, Rodney curled his hands into fists and fervently wished the same thing.

Then, suddenly, the wolf did just that. First there was vicious snarl from the wolf, then the ugly sound of breaking bones and a roar of fury and agony from Kolya, and then Zelenka was backing away, to reveal Kolya cradling a clearly broken wrist, though he retained a grip on his knife with the uninjured arm. He had no time to put it to use, however, for in the next second Sheppard had put a single bullet into his brain and Commander Kolya of the Genii fell dead on the gateroom floor.

As if in response, the city gave a subtle shudder just then and, glancing down at the console, Rodney saw that the storm surge had met Atlantis' shield, and the shield had held.

"It's working!" he called down to everyone gathered below in the gateroom. "The shield is up and it's holding."

"Oh thank heavens," Carson said as Sheppard gave him a grinning thumbs up. Zelenka gave an approving woof, then stalked cautiously toward Kolya's body. He sniffed it once, disdainfully, then turned and raised a leg over the body, leaving a parting gift there, more eloquent than any words.

"Way to go, Zelenka," Sheppard said, sounding a bit bemused.

Radek gave an affirming huff, then backed away from body and sank to the floor with a small, pained whine.

"Zelenka?" Rodney called, noticing just now the extent of the blood matting the hair on the wolf's flank -not his victim's blood, but his own. "Carson!" Rodney shouted now, racing down the stairs.

"Aye, I'm on it," Carson said, stepping over to kneel at the wolf's side. "Teyla, lass, could you run and get me the gateroom first aid kit?"

"Oh God," Rodney murmured, dropping down beside the wolf and looking over at Carson. "Is it bad? Will he be okay? I mean, I only ask because he's really useful, and god knows what vast numbers of menial tasks I'd be stuck with if he wasn't.. couldn't..."

"Ye can relax, Rodney," Carson said calmly, taking the first aid kit from Teyla and opening it. "I pretty sure it's not so very serious, and he's a wolf -he'll be healing up in no time." Carson examined the injury more closely as he got a handful of bandages and alcohol from the kit. "Although," he continued, "I'd be have a much easier time cleaning this wound if there wasn't all this fur in the way."

Carson paused then, as though waiting for some response to his words, then looked speculatively over at Rodney and then down at Zelenka. "Hm," he said after a moment. "Rodney, could you tell Dr Zelenka that you're safe, please?"

"What?" Rodney replied. "Of course I'm safe, I mean, for the moment. We're all safe; the shield worked, it's holding against the storm. Didn't I just say that?"

Before Carson could answer, however, Rodney saw the body of the wolf beside him shudder, then begin to change, growing paler, thinner, and considerably less hairy. A moment later the naked, human body of Radek Zelenka lay on the gateroom floor, shivering as he gave a little groan of pain.

Visible as well now was the long, slicing cut that ran from just below Zelenka's armpit to over his lower ribs. It looked shallow, but it also looked really painful. "Here," Carson said, handing Rodney the thin thermal blanket from the first aid kit. "Tuck this over his shoulders and legs while I clean his wound."

Rodney took the blanket with a nod, but found himself wincing a little as he stretched out his right arm to do as he'd been asked. Carson did not fail to notice.

"Bloody hell, Rodney," he said, catching hold of Rodney's arm and getting a good look at the ugly mess there. "What's this then?"

"Probably nothing," Rodney muttered, not at all wanting to discuss how he'd gotten this injury. Zelenka seemed to feel differently, however.

"They tortured him," he said through clenched teeth, probably, Rodney surmised, because he was hurting.

"Kolya?" Sheppard asked sharply, anger coloring his words. "Dammit, I knew I should have taken longer killing him. What for?"

"To learn his plan for saving city," Zelenka bit off. "And yes, I too would have liked to take a long time killing him."

Rodney had never heard such dark fury in Zelenka's voice before, but he had seen it in the wolf's eyes. It was a side of the man Rodney had never seen before and, to his surprise, he found it oddly compelling. He'd always had the feeling that there was more to the engineer than he let on, and this was the first evidence he'd seen as to how deep it went.

Rodney watched Carson clean and bandage Zelenka's wound, wincing in sympathy for each of the scientist's winces and sudden indrawn breaths. His shivering did not abate either, in spite of the thermal blanket covering his shoulders and hips.

"Hey," Rodney called over to Ford who was lounging on the steps and Sheppard, who was making his way up them to check on Elizabeth where she was keeping an eye on the control room. "Why don't you guys make yourself useful and give Zelenka here your jackets so he's not laying on the cold floor."

"Good idea," Sheppard said, pausing to take his off and hand it to Ford. "Any idea how long this storm is going to last, Rodney?"

"Could be a few hours," Rodney answered. "But Elizabeth's been watching the radar scanner. She can give you a more accurate idea."

"Great, thanks," Sheppard replied, continuing on his way up the stairs to the control room as Ford came down with their two jackets. "Where do you want these?" he asked.

"Seeing as we're going to be here for a bit," Carson answered, "why don't we get these lads somewhere that's not the middle of the gateroom floor." He directed Ford to lay the jackets down by the wall near the base of the stairs up to the control room, then he and Rodney helped Zelenka up and over to the make-shift pallet. When he was settled, Carson sat Rodney down next to him, gave both scientists a dose of painkillers, and got to work on his arm.

This involved cutting the sleeve of Rodney's jacket off (Carson told him to leave the rest of it on as he was looking a little shocky too) and then slowly peeling away the bits that had gotten glued to Rodney's injury with dried blood. It was not at all a pleasant experience, but through it all, Zelenka -lying curled on his side next to him- kept one hand clutched in his. 

When it was all done and bandaged Rodney let out a deep sigh of relief, resting for a moment before holding out his good hand for Carson, who had just risen, to pull him up. "Oh I don't think so, lad," Carson admonished, refusing to take the proffered hand. "You've a head full of pain killers and you're shocky to boot. It's best you stay right there and rest till I can get the both of you to the infirmary."

"But..." Rodney began, knowing it was probably futile to argue, but unable to stop himself. "I need to check on the shield..." Now Zelenka interrupted him with another squeeze of his hand.

"Stay, Rodney," he said. "You have done all you need to, and now you need to rest. If there is problem, then someone will call us, yes?"

Rodney was sure he had other arguments to make, but he realized that he did not really want, just now, to pull his own hand away from the warm, nimble fingers intertwined with his, and so he subsided, letting his head fall back to thunk gently on the wall behind him. "Fine," he said with his usual ill grace, but he had his eyes closed already.

Carson trotted off then and returned a little while later to let them know that it looked like another three hours or so before the storm would move on. Rodney took this in without bothering to open his eyes, but did remember to thank Carson for the information. Not that he would admit it, but Rodney was feeling more than a bit exhausted, and he found himself dozing off and on as the time passed.

He woke to the awareness of Zelenka moving restlessly beside him, his hand, still grasping Rodney's, squeezing more tightly for a moment. "You okay?" Rodney asked him.

"Am fine," Zelenka muttered. "Only pain medication is wearing off."

"What, already?" Rodney asked, knowing that his own was still keeping the injury on his arm down to a dull throb. He remembered then, Zelenka's unique physiology, and the fact that, while it is extremely difficult to poison a werewolf, it is also difficult to medicate them. "Oh, right," he said when he recalled this, then said, "You want me to call Carson to give you some more?"

"There would be little point," Zelenka said with a sigh. "It would only wear off quicker and we do not have so much of this medicine that it should be wasted on me."

"It wouldn't be a waste!" Rodney replied indignantly. "If you're in pain..."

"I am fine, Rodney," Zelenka reiterated, exasperation in his voice but an affectionate smile on his face. He squeezed Rodney's hand again. "Carson is right, that my wound will heal quickly, and the pain will fade more quickly still."

"But it hurts now...?" Rodney was not at all fond of pain, and could not imagine not reaching for some sort of medication the instant he felt the least discomfort. Medicine might be a voodoo science, but it had produced some very worthwhile things in the area of pain management. Zelenka only shrugged in response, and then winced, destroying whatever reassurance he'd meant to offer.

"You sure I can't get you something?" Rodney asked. He was finding that it bothered him immensely that Zelenka was in pain and that there wasn't anything he could do about it.

"I would not mind a drink of water," Zelenka said and that was something at least. Rodney released his grip on Zelenka's hand to reach for the water bottle Carson had left with them, then helped support his head while he drank.

"You know," Rodney found himself saying when Radek had finished and Rodney put the cap back on water bottle. "I was... I would have told Kolya everything he wanted to know, if... if you hadn't shown up when you did."

Rodney'd had to relinquish Zelenka's hand when he'd helped him with the water, but now Zelenka's fingers slipped between his once more and Rodney took them gratefully. "No, you wouldn't," Zelenka said quietly but firmly.

"No, you don't get it." Suddenly Rodney wanted to get it out, to admit his shame. "I was ready to spill. I couldn't watch that fucker stick his knife in my arm again... I was ready to break..."

Zelenka shook his head, squeezing Rodney's hand tighter still. "No," he said, certainty in his pale blue, human eyes. "It is you who do not understand. I was always going to come and tear out the throat of that _vůl_. I do not accept any possibility where that does not happen... except perhaps for one that has me arriving before he ever laid a hand on you -then I might have settled for merely breaking his wrist."

"Huh," Rodney said, blinking, both surprised and intrigued at glint of savage humor in Zelenk's flash of a toothy grin. What lingered was a sort of fire, or hunger perhaps in the werewolf's eyes that Rodney could not fathom. Rodney knew better than to believe the popular hysteria, that werewolves were all at heart savage killers who were guaranteed to turn on everyone, even their loved ones, eventually. Rodney's fathers had taught him about all the fae races, including the Wolves, and he knew that while they could be as civilized as members of any other race, certain situations could trigger the sorts of killer instincts the common, ignorant public feared.

Something must have triggered these instincts in Zelenka, Rodney figured now, but what it could have been he had no idea. He could ask, of course, but it seemed to him that it was likely none of his business, and Rodney had no tolerance for busybodies. Instead, he was left with the question turning over and over in his mind as he let the painkillers have their way with him and he drifted, unanswerable questions twining through his thoughts as Zelenka's fingers twined through his own.

Eventually Carson came to wake them both, letting them know that the storm was abating and asking Rodney if he thought he could rouse himself enough to take a look at the readings in the control room upstairs. Even as he mounted the stairs, the last of the lighting generated charge drained from the city's capacitors and the shield dropped. Atlantis shuddered slightly as she was now buffeted by winds she was no longer shielded from, but that was all.

After a brief discussion with Elizabeth and Sheppard, it was determined that it was safe enough for their people to return from Menaria, and then Rodney was escorted firmly to the infirmary by Carson. Zelenka was loaded on to a gurney a little while later, as Carson had insisted that walking would exacerbate his injury, which still needed stitching.

Carson had already begun working on the many, meticulous stitches Rodney's arm needed even as Zelenka was wheeled in, and he was still working, much later, by the time Carson's nurse had finished cleaning and stitching Zelenka. His injury was much simpler, for all that it was larger, Carson had explained, and the wolf's quick healing had already begun to work.

Zelenka seemed to be in much less pain now too, Rodney saw, to his satisfaction, while he, himself, had been given yet another dose of morphine as well as a topical anesthetic and still found the experience nearly as unpleasant as getting the original injury. It was both a little surprising and of great comfort to find Zelenka's hand coming to take hold of his once more, as his cot had been pushed close enough to Rodney's -evidently by his request- once his stitches had been done.

Rodney found that if he focused on the sensation of the thumb moving caressingly over the back of his hand, it drew his attention away from the deeply unpleasant sensation of Carson's needle stitching his lacerated arm back together. It should have bothered him, Rodney reflected in a morphine fogged sort of way, as he had never considered himself a hand-holdy sort of guy before. Still, he wasn't about to take his hand away -having accepted it in the first place- for it really was, somehow, making this whole awful experience just a bit more bearable. He didn't even let go when Carson finally finished.

"There you go, lad," Carson said, fastening the last bit of bandage. "You take care and mind my instructions and you'll heal up in no time, probably with little or no scarring." Rodney gave a sort of non-committal grunt in response. Now that the dreadful stitching business was done the combination of relief and morphine was drawing him inexorably into unconsciousness, though his grip in Zelenka's had remained firm.

"Aye," Carson remarked, as though Rodney had given a coherent response. "Rest would be the best thing for both of you now. I'll see to it that you get as much as you need."

"Thank you, Carson," Rodney heard Zelenka say as his own eyes fell shut.

"Aye, well, I suppose it's me who should be thanking you, lad," Carson replied, "for defending our city from those Genii devils. Though what prompted you to take the Wolf so many days off from the full moon I'm mighty curious to know."

There was a moment of quiet, in which Rodney nearly fell completely asleep, except that he was curious to hear Zelenka's answer. The answer he gave, however, left Rodney entirely unenlightened.

"You know why, Carson," was Zelenka's quiet answer, and Carson's reply was, "Aye, I suppose I do."

It became impossible to hold sleep at bay after that, in spite of his entirely unsatisfied curiosity. Rodney succumbed with that question burning in his thoughts, and it remained with him, even in sleep.

***

It had been said about Rodney McKay, and he did not disagree, that the scent of coffee had the power to pull him, even from Death's very door -or from a very deep slumber. Such was the case now, though Rodney also had the sense that he'd been asleep for some time, and the idea or reentering the waking world seemed like a good one, especially since it seemed to be a world that featured coffee.

It also featured the clicks and scrapes of flatwear against melamine, the scents of scrambled reconstituted eggs, and the sounds of familiar voices, all very welcome to Rodney's slowly waking senses.

"I see you've quite the appetite this morning, Radek," Carson's voice was saying, "but I suppose that's to be expected."

Radek. That was Zelenka's first name, Rodney knew, though he'd never thought of the man by that name. It always seemed strangely foreign on his tongue, and awkward, but when he recalled the man's hand gripping his, the all knowing looks that had passed between them as man and wolf, the awkwardness seemed to vanish.

"I am glad to see you have a good understanding of a wolf's dietary requirements," Zelenka... Radek was remarking, "though a very rare steak would have been even more welcome."

"Aye, I imagine it would have," Carson replied, "but seeing as I'm a doctor and not a magician, you'll have to settle for eggs -at least they've got plenty of protein, and you can have more if you like."

"Mmm, no, I believe I have had enough for now," Radek said, "but I would have another cup of coffee if that may be allowed?"

"It would be, if you're willing to settle for decaf," Carson negotiated. Radek's sigh was eloquent, and resigned.

"I suppose I must take what I can get," he said, and then Rodney heard the sound of Carson chuckling kindly as he collected Radek's tray and made his way out of the room, promising to return shortly. Rodney considered rousing enough to ask Carson to bring him a cup too, of the real stuff, but he was content for the moment to continue waking gradually. Also, Carson would only fuss over him the minute he knew Rodney was awake. Now that Carson had stepped out, though, Rodney let himself draw a long, slow breath and stretched, venturing into wakefulness in small, comfortable steps.

"Good morning, Rodney," Radek said, noting these small signs of consciousness. His tone seemed to indicate a smile, possibly an affectionate one, and Rodney was curious enough to see of it was to open his eyes.

"Izzit?" he mumbled, blinking several times. His eyes were gummy enough to indicate a very long and deep sleep indeed.

"Pardon?" Radek replied, sounding as amused as he was mystified.

"Is it actually morning?" Rodney managed with more clarity, daubing at the corners of his eyes with the sleeve of his scrubs.

"Ah, in fact, no," Radek answered. "It is nearly four in the afternoon."

"Mmm," Rodney said, yawing hugely. "So, what...? Around twenty hours?"

"More or less," Radek replied. "I do not think I have slept so long since the day after my university exams."

"Jet lag after I came back from Siberia," Rodney contributed. "Took me about a gallon of coffee to recover."

"If you ask very nicely Carson may let you have one cup with breakfast," Radek suggested. "But after that he will likely only bring you decaf."

"Yeah, I heard," Rodney said, yawning again. "And unless the city is actually in dire need of my intelligence, I suppose I won't insist."

"Insist on what?" Carson, just now returning with Radek's placebo coffee, asked.

"On getting the amounts of caffeine to which I am generally accustomed," Rodney replied imperiously.

"Well that's good to hear," Carson said, "as I am going to insist on your getting a good breakfast before any amount of caffeine will be allowed."

"Of course," Rodney said, rolling his eyes. Rodney found he could greet the idea of breakfast with enthusiasm when Carson offered him the option of the mac and cheese casserole that had been served for lunch that day, and even endured Carson's changing his bandage and inspecting his injury without much complaint.

"I am glad to hear that there will be no permanent damage from what what was done to you," Radek said when Carson had left to get Rodney's food and coffee. The engineer's look was oddly intense and his concern over the incident made Rodney a little uncomfortable. For his own part, Rodney would just as soon forget the whole thing, as his memories were more than tinged with shame, though recalling Radek's sudden and fortuitous arrival on the scene left him with other, more complicated feelings.

Ordinarily, Rodney would have found something else to focus his thoughts on, but Radek's gaze would not let him. Now Rodney was beset with the certainty that there was something important that he was not getting, and in the whole wide world, nothing drove Rodney crazier.

"What the hell were you doing there, anyway?" Rodney finally blurted out.

As out of context as Rodney's question had been, Radek seemed to have no difficulty understanding exactly what Rodney was talking about.

"You have not figured it out yet," Radek said bleakly, and it was not a question. "Carson has, you know... so I thought that perhaps..."

"Carson figures a lot of things out," Rodney snapped, "because he's a big, fat busybody, and he's over three hundred years old. Me, I actually need to see a little data."

"Data? You want data McKay?" Radek said. "If you do not already have the only important data you need, I will be very surprised. You think I forget where you grew up? I do not. You were taught everything about the Fae, even us, so you already know, Rodney, what are the things that will invoke the Wolf in us, when the moon is not full."

Rodney did know this, and he wondered now why he had not already asked himself the same question. It was easy to blame extenuating circumstances, and the morphine, but now his answer was in reach, and now he was beginning to get the idea that he might not actually want to know it. There were, in the main, three things that might drive a Wolf to his inner form at any time: threat to the pack or it's leader, threat to a pup or child of the pack, and threat to a... to a mate.

Eyes wide, Rodney lifted his gaze to meet Radek's suddenly, and was shocked to see a look of resignation, and terrible regret.

"I know," he said with a sigh, "that I have... badly overstepped some boundaries. It seems stupid to say that I did not know how far things had gotten, but I swear that it is the truth, Rodney. I had no idea, until the orders came for us to evacuate to Menaria... and I found that I could not. I had only meant to stay in the labs until you were nearly ready to raise the shield. I was monitoring your progress, so I could see when I would need to come to the gateroom, but then..."

Radek's gaze dropped now, but Rodney could still see how the regret on the man's face became washed with pain. "I knew that something had gone wrong," he continued, voice low, "but I thought it best to stay where I was, out of harm's way... but then they began to hurt you..."

Even now there was an ice cold rage in Radek's voice when he spoke of what had been done to Rodney, audible even over the resignation and sorrow, and Rodney felt it twist something in his heart. One by one, Rodney found that the pieces were falling into place, but even as the picture was becoming clearer, it also seemed that there was more to it than he had originally expected.

"I... I could not stop myself then," Radek was saying. "And that was when I really realized just how far... how far I had fallen. I knew everything would be revealed, then too, but all that mattered..." Radek heaved a sigh, "all that mattered was that I had to stop them. I _had_ to stop them hurting you."

"Aaand... you think I should have some objection to this?" Rodney asked after a long pause. He actually had a half an idea that this wasn't exactly the issue, but he didn't quite have the whole of his picture yet.

"Do not be obtuse, Rodney," Radek said crossly. "It is entirely unconvincing. The fact that I succumbed to such a powerful compulsion means that I have... I have intruded on your person unconscionably... in a manner that is likely permanent. At the very least you should have been informed of the possibility, and it should never, never been done without your consent."

This definitely laid it all out in no uncertain terms, and seen in this light, Rodney really should have been furious... but he wasn't, and there had to be a reason. He had a big part of the picture, but the whole thing really was much bigger than expected, and he still didn't have all of it.

"It shouldn't have been possible without my consent..." Rodney puzzled, trying to recall what else he might have been taught about werewolf pair-bonds. "Should it?"

Radek frowned in thought. "No." he said at last.

"Then how is it possible..." Rodney began, but he saw immediately that Radek had already been over this question in his own mind.

"I do not know!" he exploded suddenly, throwing his hands in the air. "I do not understand it! I am a grown man. I have inappropriate feelings for my boss; I can keep them to myself. That should be the end of it. It can only be because you are not a wolf. It is all I can think of."

Rodney frowned himself and wished for coffee. "How is... consent given, with wolves?" he asked finally. "Not verbally, I presume."

"No," Radek confirmed. "Wolves exchange scents, pheromones, unique ones, obviously, which humans would not have..."

"And which my sadly deficient, human olfactory senses would not detect..." Rodney finished for him, even as he chased the thought. Humans were seldom able to consciously detect the presence of pheromones of any kind, but... And then the final piece fell into place, and the whole of the picture was revealed.

"But, even though I may not be a wolf," Rodney continued. "I'm still a mammal."

"I... I didn't claim you weren't..." Radek replied, sounding confused.

"Pheromones do affect humans," Rodney said, fleshing out his theory, even though he was already certain he was right. "They affect all mammals, just not consciously, usually."

"What are you getting at, Rodney?" Radek asked.

"Oh, who's being obtuse now?" Rodney smirked. "How does that old song about werewolves go? 'A man among men, a wolf among wolves...' You can't consciously smell human pheromones when you're a human any more than any other human could, and I certainly had no way of recognizing wolf or human pheromones, but that doesn't mean they didn't have any effect on either of us. In fact, we have some fairly strong evidence that they did..." Rodney could not restrain the grin slowly growing on his face, especially as he saw how Radek's eyes grew enormous behind his glasses.

"You cannot mean..." Radek's voice was strained, and there was fear in his look now. He'd had no hope, Rodney realized. He'd had _'inappropriate'_ feelings, he'd said, and kept them to himself... because he couldn't imagine that Rodney would return them. The fact that he did might have been as big a surprise to Rodney as it seemed to be to Radek, except that when Rodney reflected on how right it had felt to hold Radek's hand in his, and how helpless he'd felt to see him suffering, how their two minds seem to work in lockstep so often... it all suddenly made sense. Radek didn't know this, however, and couldn't let himself believe.

Rodney found his hand reaching for Radek's then, before he was even really aware of what he was doing, but he saw immediately that it was absolutely the right thing to do, because Radek took it, a look of dawning wonder on his face.

"I can and I do," Rodney said with confidence. "I really am yours to protect... and, naturally, you're mine."

"Rodney..." Radek looked down at where their hands were joined and then up at Rodney. "When you speak these words... do you... you know what you are saying?" Radek Zelenka, Rodney was coming to the conclusion, had not had a great deal of hope in his life. The hope struggling for life in Radek's eyes now seemed to be mirrored with terror.

"I thought you said you hadn't forgotten where I grew up," Rodney nudged kindly.

Now Radek's eyes were very, very bright, shining with a pale blue fire, and perhaps a little with unshed tears. Then he was off his bed and, in a blink, up on Rodney's, straddling Rodney's body on his hands and knees. "You know," he said, voice as intense as his gaze, "that wolves mate for life."

Rodney might have rolled his eyes, except that Radek's focused gaze held his in place, rapt. The natural, sarcastic reply he had begun to frame failed as well, and instead Rodney found himself saying, "Yeah, but I'm finding that I don't really mind the idea." And then Radek had Rodney's face in his hands and he was kissing Rodney, with all the fire and passion Rodney had seen in his eyes.

If holding Radek's hand had felt right, kissing him felt like the music of the spheres in twelve part harmony. It was rightness to the tenth power and Rodney immersed himself in it -in the taste and lively warmth of Radek's mouth, in his hands on Rodney's face, and in the closeness of the man's body over his. Of course Rodney was also, very suddenly, hard as a rock and he could feel the same in Radek and, of course, this was just when he heard the scuff of vinyl shod hooves at the door to their room, and the sound of someone clearing his throat quietly.

Reluctantly, they broke off the kiss, turning as one to glance in the direction of the sound.

"As pleased as I am," Carson was saying, "to see that you lads have finally got this matter all sorted out, I'm afraid I am going to have to insist on certain limits for behavior in my infirmary, aye?"

For the briefest of moments Rodney thought that Radek was actually going to snarl at Carson and chase him off, but then he shook himself and knelt back up... which had the unfortunate effect of pressing his own arousal directly against Rodney's. Rodney gasped and struggled not to thrust against him -as every fiber in his being wished to do- and then Radek quickly realized his mistake. Flushing red all the way down to the open neck of his scrubs, Radek backed away and then climbed off Rodney, returning to his own bed with visible reluctance.

"Thank you lads," Carson said, coming into the room with a tray for Rodney and coffee for Radek. "I know you must be feeling a wee bit impatient at the moment, but I promise to have you out of here by this evening . In the mean time, I imagine you'll want something to keep up your strength for later, aye?"

Rodney, of course, realized that he was ravenous as soon he smelled of the food Carson had brought, and lit into it with a will. Radek smiled as he sipped his coffee and watched. "Impatience... falls somewhat short of what I am feeling at the moment," he admitted to Carson, "but I also have no desire for our first time together to be on an infirmary cot. Also, I suspect we would both like a bit more privacy, yes?"

It took Rodney a moment to realize that Radek was addressing him. "Oh, yes, by all means," he replied when he did, mouth full of mac and cheese.

"There you are," Radek said to Carson, gesturing at Rodney. "So I think we will manage to restrain ourselves, for now."

Carson apparently took them at their word, and pushed their two cots closer so that after he finished his meal Rodney dropped off to sleep again almost immediately, Radek's hand clasped firmly in his. Radek eventually drifted off as well, and he was still sleeping a few hours later when Rodney was woken by a call of nature. Even sound asleep they'd kept hold of each other's hands, and they remained joined even now, in the narrow space between their two cots.

Asleep and without his glasses, Radek looked more vulnerable, his features quiet and still as they seldom were when he was awake. Even so, Rodney found that many of the things he admired in the man were more evident now. There were the graceful lips that Rodney had always found attractive, even when they frowned, as they so often did. His eyes were closed, but without his glasses the lines at their corners which deepened whenever he smiled were clearly visible, reminding Rodney of how he loved Radek's smiles, and his low, conspiratorial chuckles. Then there was the long, almost impertinent nose, and the high brow, which Rodney knew actually had nothing to do with the man's intelligence, but put Rodney in mind of it anyway. It was possible that Rodney had fallen in love with Radek Zelenka's brain as early as that first evening after the awful jumper-stuck-in-the-gate debacle.

How he had not realized that he was falling in love with this man as a whole was a mystery, but then it seemed that Radek had missed it in himself as well, and for him it must have been even more obvious. Radek sighed in his sleep now, his fingers tightening briefly in Rodney's, and Rodney realized that the urge which had wakened him was not to be put off any longer. Reluctantly, Rodney disentangled their fingers and slipped off the bed to take care of business. He was not surprised to see Radek awake when he returned.

He greeted his mate with a kiss, then came to sit on the edge of Radek's cot and let Radek draw him into his arms. It had been a long, long time since Rodney had felt such closeness with anyone, and feeling Radek's strong, lithe body pressed close to his was a revelation. The embrace might have quickly become something more had Carson not appeared again at that moment.

"Lads, lads," he admonished kindly. "I thought we agreed to hold off on that, aye?"

"What do you mean 'we', horse boy," Rodney grumbled as he returned to his own cot and Radek straightened his clothes and glasses.

"It was not my intention to let things go any further," Radek protested, though his blush suggested that his intentions might well have gotten lost along the way. "It was only... fortuitous timing that you caught us, you know."

"Aye, of course," Carson replied with an eye roll. "Much more fortuitous than if I'd found you fully engaged when I bought your dinner in -which will be here in about five minutes. You lads do a good job with that and I'll let you lose when it's done."

"Oh thank god," Rodney said, both because he was starving again, and because he was as eager to get out of the infirmary as he'd ever been.

Dinner was meatloaf, about which Rodney never had any complaints, and though Radek made a face, he polished his off nearly as quickly as Rodney. Carson's knowing smile and the twinkle in his eye as he finally released the two men from the infirmary was just a touch embarrassing, but Rodney found it oddly warming too. Carson had always been a good friend to Rodney -essentially the first one Rodney made after his exile from the Realms- and it was clear that he took honest pleasure in Rodney's happiness.

"I'd always hoped ye'd find someone -the right someone," he'd told Rodney as he'd made a last, quick check of his injury. "And Radek? There couldn't be anyone more perfect, love; I'm sure of it."

That had engendered that warm feeling in Rodney's chest as well, and it lingered as they made their way to Rodney's quarters (where there was a better bed than in Radek's). The feeling swelled unexpectedly, though, as he caught the look on Radek's face, the bright, fierce joy in his eyes, the affectionate, anticipatory smile, as they stepped through the doorway at last.

They were kissing even as the door closed, and Radek's hands were everywhere, grasping and touching, mapping every inch of him they could reach. Clothes were removed somewhere in this process, Rodney was vaguely aware; he was more aware of the sudden, magnificent abundance of skin against his skin.

"Mine," Radek growled against Rodney's collar bone, having dragged his mouth away from Rodney's, even as Rodney had tried to chase it down. "My mate... mine at last..."

Rodney struggled for a moment with the idea that he should be put off by Radek's claim of ownership, rather than really, really turned on, but he didn't struggle for long -it felt much too good.

"Oh gods, yes," was all he could manage as Radek pushed them both toward the bed and Rodney tried to get their pants all the way off. Matters were complicated by their shoes, but sheer determination had them off moments after they both tumbled onto the bed. Now both were free to grapple with both arms and legs, and Radek's lithe, wiry body moved over his, eager and more than a little dominant. He tasted Rodney everywhere, with kisses, licks and little nips, which had Rodney writhing with surprised pleasure.

"I'm yours, I'm yours..." he found himself saying, which surprised him even more, but felt so very good to say. He heard Radek give a little sort of sob of joy in response and a moment later he was on his back again, with Radek straddling him, their two hard cocks brushing against each other. Glancing up, Rodney saw that, once again, his mate's eyes -still behind the familiar wire frame glasses- were bright with unshed tears.

"I never..." Radek said, his voice rough with joy. "I never thought I would have this... When I first left my home, I knew that wolves who leave the pack almost always remain solitary, but I made my choice, and I accepted my fate..." he shook his head, a tear or two spilling over to track down his cheek.

"You... you are a miracle to me, Rodney," he said. "A miracle... my mate."

"You're... um," Rodney said, swallowing as he reached up to brush Radek's tears away and gently take his glasses. "You're kind of miraculous yourself, you know." Then Radek was leaning down to kiss him, saying more than words ever could.

Their cocks were both pressed between their bellies when Radek leaned forward, and so the kiss quickly became desperate and carnal, Rodney thrusting his hips up mindlessly and groaning into the kiss. Radek thrust back, growling to answer Rodney's groan and in a moment they were both writhing and thrusting on the bed, overcome with animal desire.

Rodney could feel an inevitable climax building in him, and was well past the point of caring about much of anything else when Radek, with a reluctant but determined groan, pushed away from him and up onto his knees once more. "Wha...? Rodney complained incoherently.

"You..." Radek gestured vaguely. "You must have some... mazadlo..."

Suddenly Radek's gestures seemed somehow clearer. "Lube..." he managed. "Nightstand... top drawer..." Rodney moaned a little and thrust up at nothing when Radek climbed off him to reach for said drawer, even as he longed powerfully for Radek to put that lube to use.

"On your knees," Radek ordered, and Rodney felt a thrill of anticipation run through him as he moved to comply. It had been a good long time since Rodney had been fucked, the circumstances of his life the last decade or so constraining him to more expedient sorts of sexual contact. Certainly, he'd never had any particular complaints over his occasional chance for a blow job or hand job, but Rodney had never, ever craved the feel of a cock up his ass more than he did right now. The heartfelt moan he gave as Radek inserted a finger into him came out almost as a sob.

Radek drew in a long breath as he pressed a second finger in, carefully working him looser. "You are very tight," he said, his voice low. "You have done this before?"

"Yeah..." Rodney groaned. "But it's been a while..."

"Dobrý... dobrý... " Radek muttered breathily. "Then it will be like the first time for you, miláčku... and soon you will forget that you have known any other man..."

But Rodney had already forgotten. Feeling a twinge as he had tried to put weight on his injured arm, he fell forward to let his upper body rest on his elbows, ass in the air and now accepting three of Radek's fingers. Rodney wanted more, and he wanted it now.

"Fuck!" he cried as Radek's fingers pressed deep enough to tag Rodney's prostate. "Gods... Radek, just... just fuck me now... please..."

"Bože... yes," Radek groaned, leaning forward to bite him on the shoulder, hard enough to leave marks and to draw a surprised gasp from Rodney. Then Radek's fingers were withdrawn and Rodney waited, panting and empty, for Radek to fill him again. He did not have to wait long.

Radek's cock was thick and hard and perfect, pushing into him, opening him, filling him in a way that completed him, though he had never felt himself to be incomplete before. Rodney groaned loudly, knowing himself, at last, to be claimed, possessed, and never to be another man's. _'Wolves mate for life,'_ Radek had reminded him, and Rodney felt the truth of that now as he never could before.

"Gods... Radek, please..." Rodney ground out, desperate, and Radek understood, drawing himself out slowly, then slamming back into him hard, to begin fucking him with a driving rhythm. Rodney braced himself, knees wide apart, head down and resting on his crossed arms, as Radek took him, with more strength and force than Rodney might have expected from such a slight figure. Wolves were often stronger than they seemed, Rodney knew, though he never would have guessed that he would take such pleasure in Radek's wiry strength.

He had stamina too, and though Rodney had thought himself to be moments from coming only a little while ago, Radek seemed determined to make it last for both of them. His hands gripped Rodney's hips with bruising strength as he thrust into his mate and Rodney just moaned and took it, knowing he had never been fucked so well in all his life. He was thinking that he might end up coming just from being fucked, without Radek even touching his cock when Radek gave a harsh, not quite human, cry, and pulled out, roughly pushing Rodney over as he did.

A moment later Rodney was somehow on his back again, Radek kneeling between his thighs and coming, his release pulsing over Rodney's chest and belly. Then Rodney was coming too, at the first hot splash of Radek's cum spattering over his body, and Radek was cupping his hand under Rodney's spasming cock to catch it and smear Rodney's essence over his own hairy chest and belly.

Had it been physically possible, Rodney would have come again almost immediately at the sight, and as it was he felt his cock twitch almost painfully and a surge of raw lust course through his body. "Yours..." Radek growled, leaning down to kiss him feircely. "Only yours."

"Fuck yes," Rodney whispered harshly, as Radek's mouth moved again to the base of Rodney's throat, to bite and suck the skin there until Rodney knew there would be a vivid mark, clear for anyone to see. At the moment Rodney could not think of anything he wanted more. That changed a moment later, however, when Radek finished leaving his mark and rolled slightly to the side, lifting his chin to expose his own throat.

Rodney was moving before he knew it, acting on a desire that came from deep within him -an animal place that Rodney had never known existed. The visceral need to fasten his teeth onto his mate's throat and leave his own mark was both shocking and delicious. Radek groaned as Rodney's teeth made their mark, and every bit of Rodney's consciousness was overcome with the knowledge of his claim, and how he was marking it.

"Mine," Rodney murmured, licking the reddened flesh of Radek's throat. "You're mine... and everyone has to see it."

"Yes, yes, yes..." Radek's voice was suffused with joy as he pulled Rodney into a fierce embrace, and Rodney reciprocated, wrapping his arms around his mate and holding him close. For countless years, Rodney had hidden from himself how much he missed this sort of closeness. He had written it off after his exile, resigning himself, much as Radek had done, to a life of loneliness. Suddenly Rodney understood the profound relief that had bought Radek to tears earlier, though Rodney felt his dawning more gradually.

It would come to him over the next few days and weeks, the magnitude of what he had found here. For now it was enough to wrap his arms around his mate's body and feel his mate move likewise, and know that rather facing a life alone, neither one of them would ever be alone again. Only death could separate them now, and although that specter hovered closer here than it might have elsewhere, but Rodney found that he did not fear it.

Even if death took them both tomorrow, nothing could take what they had now, and Rodney was content with that. As many strange new things that Rodney had come to experience over the last couple of days, that contentment, Rodney reflected as he basked in his mate's arms, might just be the strangest thing of all.

*******


	3. Tale the Second: Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Sheppard has kept a very dangerous secret about himself for a long time, but when circumstances force its revelation, naturally it is Rodney McKay who is the only witness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers: Season 1, mostly "The Defiant One"

**[Tale the Second: Revelation](http://tdancinghands.livejournal.com/62355.html#cutid1) **

 

John Sheppard was actually surprised that Dr Zelenka allowed his mate to go on any missions without insisting on accompanying him, but it turned out that the man was quite accommodating, for a wolf. He was also refreshingly pragmatic. Zelenka had not come on the Atlantis Expedition to do a lot of offworld exploring; he had come to pry the secrets from Atlantis herself, and he was more than content to remain in the city and do just that.

Also, realistically, John had mused as he directed the jumper towards the planet where they'd tracked a Wraith distress call, anyone who came to work and live with Rodney McKay either learned to make allowances or ended up trying to kill him. John had passed though that stage himself some months ago, and was fairly pleased with his restraint. Having trained himself to endure and manage Rodney McKay was well worth it, for it allowed him to appreciate that the man was indeed, just as brilliant as he said and, at the core, just as brave and loyal as any of his best soldiers. The fact that one had to learn to endure McKay at his worst before becoming privy to these things made them the equivalent of a closely guarded secret, but maybe that was the way McKay wanted it.

Brave and loyal as he might be, however, McKay was still no soldier, which meant that, as much as he often wished it, John could not give the man orders and expect them to be followed without question every single time. He understood that, and at the end of the day, didn't really want him to change, but there were certainly times, such as now, that Major John Sheppard really wished with all his heart that McKay would, just once, follow the orders he had been given.

But no, there was no way McKay would stay in the downed Wraith ship with Gaul, especially once he learned that John had come off the worse for wear in his first skirmish with the millenia old wraith. Still, he couldn't say he was all that sorry either when McKay appeared on the crest of the dune, firing his pistol into the wraith just as he had disarmed John and was coming in for the kill.

He shouted at the man to reload as he scrambled away, but then gestured for him to hold his fire, once he had gotten a little distance. If the plan he had set in motion when he stuck the food bar to the wraith's belt worked, Rodney wouldn't need to shoot him again, and if it didn't, he'd rather hold the last of their ordinance back for more dire circumstances.

Those circumstances might be coming up real quick, though, because the fucking wraith was getting up again already, and heading straight for him, and he knew Ford wouldn't fire the drone while he was so close. Nothing, fucking nothing could outrun that thing, though John was still trying, drawing on strength he knew he wasn't supposed to have in front of witnesses, when he felt the iron strong grasp on his shoulders and he went down.

He could not stop himself fighting, even as the sharp teeth of the feeding hand pierced his flesh, even as he felt the fire of his very being drawn from him. He screamed, because there wasn't anything living that wouldn't scream at this. He screamed and fought, even as he knew that this was his death, and knew that he had nothing left but this last fight, which he would refuse to surrender till his last breath... and then a pair of bullets pierced the wraith's feeding arm.

The thing gave a horrifying screech, drew it's injured feeding hand away, and promptly leapt off in the direction of the shooter. _McKay!_ John tried to shout out a warning, but he could not make another sound come from his abused throat. He could do nothing but shake and gasp in agony and try to make his eyes focus enough to see where McKay was.

And then the drone hit.

The force of the blast sent John tumbling a few dozen feet, and peppered his back with bits of debris when he finally came to rest, curled into a protective ball. McKay _must_ have been far enough away when the drone hit, he told himself. He would accept no other possibility. There remained some question, however, as to whether he would live long enough to find out for sure.

Even as he had felt the wraith pull away from him, John had known with ugly certainty that the it had already taken too much. He had seen what had happened to Abrams, and to Gaul, though he could tell that he had not been aged in the same way. He wasn't human, however, so the manifestations would naturally be different. Vampires were much too close, in certain ways, to the wraith to be immune to them. The wraith had not aged John, but it had starved him.

He felt how gaunt he had become, how muscles had been wasted to nearly nothing, leaving him too weak to move, or to keep his Aspect hidden. John could feel the fully exposed fangs in his mouth, and knew that his eyes would show green irises surrounding elongated pupils, like a cat's. Gods and Devils, John realized with dismay, if McKay hadn't survived, he'd be dead inside of an hour, but if McKay had survived, he'd be here in seconds. He'd see John, know at last what he was, and John would much, much rather be dead then. It was just as he was having this thought, of course, that John heard the desperately running footsteps, and the familiar, slightly hysterical voice, calling his name.

"Sheppard! Oh, you had better not be fucking dead, you suicidal moron..." The footsteps came to a halt next to his head and there was the harsh huff of breath as McKay dropped to his knees beside him. He remained still, face turned away, and wished, with shocking intensity, for death, which had seemed so close only a moment before, and now seemed hopelessly distant.

"Okay, your hair's still black; that's got to be a good sign." McKay's babble, a sure indicator that he was worried sick, made John's heart ache. The scientist -his friend- was seconds from discovering that the man he thought he cared about was a complete lie, and John was helpless to prevent it. Warm, slightly moist fingers came to rest at his neck next.

"Oh thank the gods," McKay gasped, feeling the pulse there. "Still alive; you're still alive, and... and you can't be that badly aged, if your hair's still black. Okay... okay, let's have a look... Wha...? Oh holy shit..."

John had futilely tried to resist McKay's tugging his arms away from his face, and had not been surprised in the least to feel him flinch away when he finally got a good look.

"You've... still got a full clip, right?" John managed to rasp out after moment of silence. "Just... finish me... problem solved."

There was a moment of stunned silence, and then McKay exploded.

"What?!!" the scientist cried, leaping to his feet. "Why on Earth would I...? Oh you have _got_ to be... Have you _completely forgotten_ where I grew up? Okay, yes, your people _are_ exiles but that doesn't mean that we're all bigots about it! Fucking Dionysus on a pogo stick, Sheppard, does my finding out you're a vampire erase the last, oh I don't know, _dozen_ times you've saved my life? Not to mention all the other stuff you've done that clearly proves you to be an entirely decent... person. What kind of asinine moron do you take me for?"

John stared up at the ranting scientist, feeling a little shock, a little shame, and more than a little affection. He wished he felt any hope at all, but alas, he knew there was none.

"Rodney," he managed once more, and the scientist dropped back down to his knees in order to hear him better. "I'm dying anyway, and you can't take me back to Atlantis like this. You may be understanding, but the rest of the Marines and most of the mortal civilians won't be. Being what I am in the US military is a court-marshal offense, and tantamount to treason."

The silence that followed was tense, and John could hear Rodney breathing hard through his nose. "Oh, no," he said at last. "No, no, no, no, no... you are not doing this to me, Sheppard. I am _not_ going to be the sole fucking survivor of this cluster fuck of a mission!"

"Oh crap," John replied, shocked to realize that his heart really could sink even more than it had. "Gaul...?"

"Ate his fucking gun," Rodney all but snarled, and now John could see how close to the edge Rodney really was.

"God dammit," John muttered, aching in more ways than he would have thought possible. "Rodney, I..."

"No," Rodney snapped, interrupting. "No you are _not_ giving up, you bastard! Not after I used the second of a five use luck charm on those god damn bullets! Not after Gaul... um... so that I would leave him and go help you!"

Well that explained the uncanny marksmanship of McKay's shots striking the wraith's wrist, John reflected as Rodney pushed himself to his feet to frantically pace beside him. He listened to the man mutter to himself as he walked, and realized then that there was no way Rodney wasn't going to figure it out. He sighed, covering his face with his hand as he heard Rodney's pacing come to a sudden halt.

"The Wraith didn't age you," Rodney declared. "He starved you! All you need is to be fed..."

"Absolutely not!" John protested, though he knew that he would no more triumph over Rodney than he had over the wraith. "Rodney, for Gods' sake, Zelenka will kill me." That was no joke, and Rodney would know it.

"No, he won't." Rodney's tone was irrefutable, so much so that John wondered if he might possibly have the truth of it. "He'll understand. I'll _make_ him understand." Rodney was kneeling at John's side once more, and rolling up his left sleeve. John could smell the blood close to his skin and hated himself.

"He knows who you are, what you've done," Rodney was saying. "He'll remember that you've saved my life -his mate's life- and he doesn't want to start the war again any more than you do. Now, are you going to bite or do I have to cut myself? Because I will if you don't..."

John didn't answer with words, surrendering with a soft groan instead. He let his fangs sink into the soft skin of Rodney McKay's wrist, tapping the red river of life that ran so close to the surface there. He shuddered as the primal energy it carried was absorbed instantly into his own system, imparting the visceral pleasure of satiation. Beside him, he heard Rodney give a little gasp, then a sigh, experiencing for the first time the pleasure of being fed upon by a vampire.

John Sheppard had not fed on another human being since his last free weekend before he entered the Airforce Academy, and he hadn't done it much previously. It was a hell of a rush, he remembered that, but feeling the temporary blood-link which had formed with the pretty but vacuous young man he'd picked up at the Ft Lauderdale 'feeder bar' had actually been a little distasteful. Feeling the blood-link form with Rodney -his friend and team mate- was another thing entirely.

John knew the link wouldn't last if he didn't feed from Rodney again, something which he had no intention of doing, but even the most superficial connection with the mind of Rodney McKay was like getting a glimpse into something inexpressively spectacular and amazing. It was not unlike standing outside the fence of the Airforce base near his home as a boy, watching F-14s take off and land, and wanting to be part of everything on the other side of that fence more than anything.

John had made his choice back then. He'd known the sacrifices he'd have to make to get what he wanted, and he'd never regretted it. Rodney, on the other hand, would never be his, no matter what he sacrificed, and this was the thought John clung to as he forced himself to draw his fangs away, licking the wound closed. He felt the life force in the blood he'd taken from Rodney coursing through him, restoring his wasted flesh and his strength, so that a moment later he was able to hide the fangs, his inhuman eyes, and pass for an ordinary mortal once again.

Beside him, John heard Rodney give a little sigh that might have been a quiet moan, and he felt the man sway a little.

"Rodney?" he asked sharply, pushing himself up easily now. He was fairly sure he had not taken too much blood but he definitely needed to check to see that he was alright, and probably get him some food.

"M'okay..." Rodney answered a little blearily. He blinked then, looking John up and down. "You... you look... much better. Not dying now?"

"Not dying," John answered, unable to keep the affection out of his voice. "Now let's get out of the sun, and maybe get your blood sugars back up closer to where they should be."

"Mmm... probably a good idea," Rodney said, starting to push himself up.

"Whoa there," John cautioned, seeing how unsteady Rodney was. "Lemme give you a hand."

Together, they made their way to the puddle jumper, still inaccessible but at least creating a sizable patch of shade. He sat Rodney and himself down, leaning against the jumper's side, gave Rodney the last of his water and a couple of energy bars, and radioed Ford to let him know that they were okay and waiting for a pickup. After only a few minutes, John saw to his great relief, the scientist was nearly back to his old self.

"We're going to need to get our stories straight," Rodney said after he had finished his second energy bar. "I'm pretty sure that Carson already knows about you," he continued, "even if you think he doesn't, but people are going to see that feeding mark and wonder why you're not dead."

"Yeah," John said with a sigh. "I've had a feeling that Carson was sort of humoring me about something from the start, though he never actually said anything, and if he's never said anything before he probably won't now..."

"Carson won't turn you in, John," Rodney assured. "He thinks that a lot of the American military policies about Fae Folk are pretty moronic, and he'd never aid and abet in something like that."

"'Kay..." John said, feeling himself start to relax a little, only now realizing how tense he'd been. "So what are we telling them about what happened here?"

"Probably something pretty close to the truth," Rodney said. "Just that I shot the wraith a few seconds earlier, before it got a chance to take anything."

John nodded. "Considering you actually did use a luck charm, that's actually believable," he said. "Though how you came to be in possession of a _real_ luck charm that actually works..."

"How do you think?" Rodney answered with a snort of disdain. "My dads gave it to me just before I left... like a parting gift, like they knew they wouldn't have a chance to give it to me later."

John shouldn't have been surprised at the shadow of bitter grief in Rodney's voice, but it made something in him ache a little to hear it. "Um... thanks for that, by the way," he said, jumping into the awkward silence. "For using up one of your charms, I mean... and of course, um, the other thing..."

"Yeah well..." Rodney's mouth shifted to admit a reluctant smile. "As happy as I am to bask in your undying gratitude, I have a feeling we're going to be doing a lot of this for each other as time goes on."

"This," John shook his head, pointing at Rodney's wrist, "we are never doing again. Even if I admit the possibility that your boyfriend isn't going to at least castrate me for what I've done here, he'll never allow me to live if I form a permanent link with you, and I will if I feed from you again."

Rodney seemed to have nothing to say to that, but as the silence stretched on John found he had another question he could not let lie. "You are going to tell Zelenka everything, aren't you?" he asked.

"Duh!" Rodney gave him the answer that questioned deserved, John had realized the moment it had come out of his mouth. "He'll know most of it the minute we come through the gate, anyway."

"Right," John said with an unhappy sigh. "You know, I really liked being friends with the guy."

"And he liked, I mean likes, being friends with you," Rodney insisted. "Look, Sheppard, Radek _will_ probably be a little pissed when he first finds out, but he'll get over it. He's a reasonable, intelligent man."

"For a wolf," John muttered, before he could stop himself. Rodney threw the balled up energy bar wrappers at him.

"You, Major Species-ist," he said pointing an accusing finger, "are half the problem, you know."

John started to assemble a denial, but thought the better of it, letting his head fall back to rest against the side of the jumper instead. It might, indeed, be the case that McKay had a point, and that was food for enough thought to keep John's mind occupied until the rescue jumper finally showed up.

****

The ride back to Atlantis was a quiet one, in part because they were both exhausted, and in part because McKay had insisted on leading the recovery team back into the wraith ship to find Gaul's and Abrams' bodies. John had gone too, of course, and had seen the slump of McKay's shoulders when they'd come to Abrams' broken body, and the flash of agonized regret on his face when he'd returned to where Brendan Gaul lay. John had come forward without a word, only laying a firm hand on Rodney's shoulder and leading him away.

"Those guys came take it from here," he'd said, and the two of them had gone back to the jumper and let Stackhouse ferry them back home to Atlantis. Zelenka was, of course, waiting for them in the jumper bay when they landed. Sheppard hadn't seen McKay and Zelenka show any fondness for PDAs in general, but after a hard mission -and Zelenka always seemed to know when those had been- he had gotten used to seeing them greet each other with a brief, or sometimes not so brief, embrace.

This time Zelenka drew back after only a moment, holding Rodney out at arms length. There was a short, muttered exchange, then then the wolf's steely gaze flicked up to meet Sheppard's, and John Sheppard knew that he was a made man... or rather, a made vampire. He was also, quite possibly, dead.

John's fateful musings were interrupted by Carson's firm hand on his shoulder -the uninjured one. "Come along then, Major," he said gently, even as John heard McKay's over audible stage-whisper, "No killing! Not till we've had a chance to to talk in private!"

John gave a defeated sigh and let Carson lead him away. He supposed he was safe enough in the infirmary, for the time being. Once there, Carson sent a nurse to attend to McKay's needs and then pulled the privacy curtain around them and saw to John's care himself. His sure hands hesitated when he came to see the feeding scar on John's chest.

"Lord's of Earth and Air, Major!" he exclaimed. "Is that what I think it is?"

John started to shrug, then thought the better of it. "He barely got started before McKay shot him," he said, sticking with the cover story. Carson frowned, recognizing the half truth immediately.

"Aye, and we'll be having our own private talk in a moment," he said quietly, taking a syringe from the tray to get a sample of John's blood. John wondered if Carson would actually find elements of McKay's blood there. He endured the bloodletting stoically, then waited while Carson went to drop the sample into the analyzer. He heard Carson speaking briefly with the nurse attending Rodney, and with Zelenka, and a moment later both the nurse and Zelenka had left the infirmary.

"I sent Amelia home for the evening," Carson explained when he returned, "and Radek's gone to get you both a bit of dinner. Now it's quite obvious that you need a unit of blood; does Rodney?" John only gave the healer a wary look at first.

"I've cleared the infirmary, lad," Carson said patiently. "There's no one to hear except me and Rodney, who I imagine already knows everything now, yes?"

"Okay, yes," John said with a resigned sigh. "We both probably need blood. Are you telling me that you're not going to report me?"

Carson only shook his head. "Major, you've done a remarkable job of fooling your military doctors, but there was no way you were going to keep your secret from someone like me. I suppose you're lucky that the same pig-headed policy that makes it illegal for you to join the Airforce also causes them to hire only mortal medical personnel, who you might be able to hide from. Any doctor with an ounce of Fae blood would have known you were a vampire from the first examination, just as I did."

John could not help wincing at Carson's open declaration of his identity, but the centuries old, centaur healer was not one to take such confidences lightly, John reminded himself. If his cover was going to be blown, it wouldn't be by Carson Beckett. "Thank you," he said. "It hasn't been easy to hide what I am, but the US government doesn't seem to think that vampires should be allowed to fly anything, so I did what I had to."

"Believe me, I understand," Carson said, setting up his IV. "Now why don't you tell me the whole of what happened to you today."

And since there wasn't any reason not to, John did. Carson had him pause as he went on the other side of the curtain partition to hang Rodney's bag of blood, but otherwise listened attentively to the entire narrative without interruption. He had only a few questions when John was finished, and then checked a few more things and when he'd done that Zelenka returned with food for both of them.

John didn't worry that the wolf might have slipped something into his food, as it was even harder to poison a vampire than it was a werewolf, but ate his meal as Rodney consumed his and when he was done Carson let Zelenka take Rodney home. He'd only needed a little blood, which Carson had given him, and rest, which John knew Zelenka would enforce rigorously.

Carson asked John if he wanted to talk after they'd left, and he almost considered it. He did want to talk, but Carson wasn't either of the two people John really wanted to talk to right now, so he just shook his head and said he wanted to rest. Carson was fine with that, of course, and so left him alone, even though John knew he was miles away from being able to sleep.

Lying wakeful in the quiet, dimly lit infirmary, John passed the time wrestling with the memories that beset him, and eventually dozed on and off... until he woke the sound of someone coming to stand at the foot of his bed. He opened his eyes to see Radek Zelenk standing there, naturally, and naturally, the first thing he said was, "I know what you are."

 

****

Letting his mate go into the field without him meant that Radek Zelenka had learned to endure the occasional bouts of anxiety that he felt from his distant mate, and refrain from bothering Dr Weir or whoever was on duty in the control room. If Rodney ever actually needed help from Atlantis, Radek would know it, and more than ninety percent of the time the situation would resolve itself.

Hence, Radek knew something had gone wrong in Rodney's mission hours before Elizabeth had called him up to her office to explain why she had sent a rescue team. He appreciated her understanding of his right to be kept informed, as Rodney's mate, and diligently kept out from under foot in the control room until he could go and wait in the jumper bay. His first sight of his mate as he emerged from the jumper filled Radek with nearly dizzying relief as he saw that Rodney seemed physically unharmed. As soon Rodney drew close enough for Radek to smell, however, Radek felt a different wave of powerful emotion roll over him and he knew, to his profound shock, at least part of what had happened.

"Who?!" he demanded, holding Rodney back from their embrace, blood simmering. "What night hunter has had the audacity to take from he who is mine?"

Rodney, in his usual guilelessness, had surely not meant to glance over his shoulder towards Sheppard, but his eyes flicked that direction nonetheless, just for a second, and for a moment a wave of fury and betrayal nearly overrode Radek's customary restraint. Luckily, Rodney's grasp on his shoulders was firm, holding Radek in place and preventing him from leaping after Sheppard to tear the man's throat out.

"Radek, listen to me!" Rodney murmured urgently, clearly trying to speak so that others would not hear. "It's complicated, and it's not what you think... not exactly, anyway, I need to talk to you _in private_ to explain."

"I see nothing so complicated," Radek hissed, feeling his wolf's instincts nearly as strongly as he had when Kolya had tortured Rodney. "My mate has been violated, and I will kill whoever has done this."

In response, however, Rodney's grip on him only tightened. "Absolutely not!" he hissed back, loudly enough to be heard throughout the jumper bay. "No killing! Not till we've had a chance to to talk in private!"

At last, Radek caught the edge of hysteria in his mate's voice, and immediately he felt his blood lust reside. Rodney may have been physically unharmed, but Radek could seen now that he mate was deeply troubled, and probably only partially because he had been fed on by a vampire -who happened to be his team leader and friend. It was only then that it dawned on Radek that, while Rodney, Sheppard and their pilot had exited the jumper, there was as yet no sign of Gaul and Abrams. Glancing back at Rodney's wide and haunted eyes, Radek realized that more things had gone wrong than he knew.

"Please," Rodney was begging him. "Just come with me while Carson checks me out and I promise I'll tell you everything afterward. I promise..."

Radek shook himself now, pulling himself together. His mate should never have to beg like this, not for what was his by rights -his mate's support and trust. "Forgive me," Radek said softly, drawing his mate back into his arms. "Whatever you need, you must only say, and it is yours."

He accompanied Rodney back to the infirmary peaceably, keeping hold of his mate's hand as much as possible. Radek kept his peace too, no matter that it ran entirely against his instincts. He did not entirely take his eye off of Sheppard, however, until he disappeared behind the privacy curtain Carson pulled around him. It riled to have his mate so close to the vampire who had fed on him, and Radek's first impulse was to grab the first medical personnel he could to demand that they be kept in separate rooms, but a glance at his mate's haunted and frightened eyes helped remind him of what was needed of him.

He trusted Carson too, Radek reminded himself, more so as he seemed unsurprised both by what had happened to Rodney and at learning Sheppard's true nature -though it was possible that Carson had known that from the beginning. Therefor, when the healer asked Radek to leave his mate's side to bring dinner for him and Sheppard, he knew there was a good reason for it, and complied, though it was not altogether easy.

All was well when he returned, however, and after Rodney had demolished his meal, Carson released him to Radek's care, having provided him with a few simple instructions, most of which Radek knew already. Radek expected Rodney's story to come boiling out the moment he was out of the infirmary, and out of ear shot of both Carson and Sheppard, but Rodney remained silent for the whole walk to their quarters and Radek felt his own anxiety build. A silent Rodney was a very troubled Rodney indeed.

"Okay, so yes," Rodney said at last with a sigh, having collapsed into the small, and not particularly comfortable sofa in their quarters. "Sheppard is a vampire, and he fed on me." It should not have made Radek all but quiver with helpless fury to hear Rodney say what he already knew to be true, but he did, and so crossed his arms over his chest to hold himself still.

"Radek..." even Rodney could not miss Radek's obvious displeasure, and so his voice was pleading now. "He was dying. The wraith... it starved him... and do you know what the asked me to do once I saw him and could see what he was? He told me to kill him! He immediately assumed that once I knew what he was, I'd want to! But I couldn't... Gods help me I couldn't, Radek... Not after..." Rodney was wringing his hands with dread as he spoke, hunched over himself in the corner of the sofa and Radek felt his righteous, propriatary fury begin to drift away like so much smoke.

"After Brendan... Gods, he practically blew his brains out right in front of me..." Rodney blurted it out suddenly, yanking off the bandage. "I mean... I just turned my back for a second..." Then Rodney's voice broke, and he bowed his head, hiding his tears with a hand over his eyes. Not reaching for Radek.

It struck Radek like an arrow to the heart then, how he'd failed his mate, and with a soft, pained cry, he found himself at Rodney's side, gathering his love into his arms to hold him as he grieved. "I am so sorry, miláčku," he said gently, when Rodney's shoulders stopped shaking, one hand slowly stroking his mate's hair.

"The wraith got Gaul and Abrams first," Rodney answered sorrowfully, "before we even knew what we were up against... andit killed Abrams right away. When we found the body... "

"Oh, miláčku..." Radek mourned, remembering what happened to victims of the wrath as he bent to press his lips against Rodney's forehead.

"So we found Gaul later," Rodney forged ahead after a moment, "and he was still alive, but the wraith had... he was like an old man and he... maybe he was dying, I don't know... but then Sheppard ran off on his own to fight the wraith, like an idiot, and left me alone with Gaul, and then he radioed to tell me he'd been hurt..." Radek did not think Rodney would have even paused there except that he seemed to need to swallow. He picked up again immediately and Radek just held him and let his get it all out.

"He needed help, but I couldn't leave Gaul," Rodney continued, "and he _told_ me to go, but I told him I couldn't and then... I just I... I really only had my back turned for a second or two, and I... I heard the gun go off..."

Radek rocked his lover in his arms as he wept again, a few tears of his own smearing the lenses of his glasses. Gaul and Abrams had both been good men; Radek had worked with them and known them both fairly well, and no one, good or bad, should ever have to die like that. The horror of it struck Radek to his soul.

"So... you understand now," Rodney lifted his head to speak when he had recovered himself once again, "why I couldn't... I just couldn't let Sheppard die. I don't know what I would have done if... He tried to refuse, when I offered, and I told him I... I'd cut myself, force him, because I would have done anything. I know it made a link; I know I shouldn't have let him, but I couldn't... I couldn't let him die..."

"Shhh, shh, miláčku," Radek soothed. "It is all right. I do understand, and I am sorry... that I did not do better at holding my anger in check. You deserved more from me."

"I understand," Rodney replied. "I knew it would be hard for you to take. I mean, he's a _vampire_ , and you... you're..."

"I am a wolf, yes," Radek interjected, "but I am not an animal. My mate was hurt and frightened and grieving for lost colleagues and all I could think of was my pride. That is a shameful thing in a man or a wolf."

"Actually," to his relief, Radek saw Rodney's expression now revealing mostly affection now, "I kind of like that in you, your pride... and the way you get... fierce, when you're mad."

Radek smiled, returning Rodney's affectionate look. "You know, you can be fairly ferocious yourself, at times," he said.

"Only when confronted with idiocy," Rodney replied, and then, "and speaking of idiots, you need to go and talk to Sheppard. He's seriously convinced that you're going to kill him, or at least castrate him."

"I suppose," Radek said with a sigh and a half smile, "that as much as I would perhaps like for him to go on being convinced of that for a little while longer, it is not entirely kind."

"You're a decent man, Radek," Rodney said, lifting a hand to lay against his cheek. "I like that about you too."

Radek helped Rodney get showered and settled into bed after that, and made sure he took the sedative Carson had given him. Together, they would work through the emotional trauma of this mission in the days and weeks to come, but tonight Rodney needed a full night's sleep, untroubled by the nightmares that would surely come if not forestalled by medication.

He left with the promise that Rodney would wake to find his mate beside him, and Rodney's mumbled reply reveled such complete and unthinking trust that Radek had to pause to overcome his desire to pull his mate into his arms and kiss him within an inch of his life. Rodney's not-so-gentle snoring starting up a moment later shook Radek from his affectionate daze, however, and he slipped silently out of their quarters to confront his own demons.

Carson met him at the doorway to the infirmary, blocking the entrance warily. "There'll be no violence done here, lad. Not on my watch and not in my infirmary."

Radek bristled momentarily at the expectation that he was here to do violence, but then subsided. It was not, after all, an unreasonable assumption, given the circumstances. "If I was here to do violence, Carson," he said a little tiredly, "you would be confronting a somewhat different aspect now. My mate requires me to make peace, and so I shall."

Carson took his measure with a direct and piercing gaze, and then he gave way without hesitation, which Radek found reassuring. He held the healer's trust in his mind as he entered the infirmary to stand at the foot of John Sheppard's bed, looking down on the man he thought he'd known, and knowing what he had not before. It was hard, he could not deny, to keep the ages old enmity at bay, but to fail in this would be to betray the trust of his lover and a very good friend, so he would not. Still, he was not at all certain how to begin.

Sheppard appeared to be asleep in his infirmary cot, but Radek's own keen senses, as well as the echo he felt from Rodney's faint link with the vampire who had fed on him, made it clear that he was not. The vampire had to know Radek was standing there, and so it appeared that he felt just as uncertain as Radek. Frustrated by his own helplessness, Radek finally blurted out the first thing that lay uppermost in his thoughts.

"I know what you are," he said.

Sheppard nodded as he opened his eyes, then drew a reluctant breath, blinking and pushing himself to sit upright in the cot. "You know, Carson is never going to let you kill me in here," he said, more as though it were a problem they both needed to solve, rather than a matter of pleading for mercy or restraint. Radek bit back a sigh of exasperation.

"I am not going to kill you," he said. "My mate has forbidden it, and furthermore, he has made a fairly irrefutable case against it. He points out that you have saved his life any number of times, which I know to be true, and that the good functioning of this city rather depends on you to a large extent, with which I am also forced to agree."

Sheppard gave a curt nod but remained silent, letting Radek speak his piece. "He also said," Radek continued, "that you told him to kill you. This is true?"

"Yeah, I did," Sheppard replied.

Radek frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. "Please do not ever do that again, Major," he said. "He... you mean a great deal to him, and... it would wound him deeply. You know it would."

"I, ah... I appreciate that," Sheppard said uncomfortably. "But you don't have to trust me, Zelenka. You've got me by the balls. All you have to do is let the Airforce know what I am. There isn't anything you could do to me that could possibly be any worse."

"What would they do, if they knew?" Radek asked. He had heard that the US had some fairly conservative policies concerning 'dangerous' fae folk, but knew only rumors.

"The US military categorizes all wolves and night hunters as 'Class D Undesirable and Uncontrollable Fae'," Sheppard answered in a flat, resigned voice. "They're forbidden from taking any role in any branch of the military or law enforcement, and those who are caught doing so are automatically considered the equivalent of the most dangerous and violent Fae criminals, and sent to... to a place everyone mostly just calls The Reservation."

Radek blanched. He had heard rumors of this place, but he had not let himself believe they were true. "It truly exists?" he said, incredulous still. "They condemn these Fae criminals to live out their lives confined on an old nuclear testing range?"

"And you'd think that would be bad enough, wouldn't you?" Sheppard said bitterly. "But, of course, there's no law of any sort inside the reserve and there's no escape. A lot of the guys they throw in there are really dangerous and fucked up and the story is that the most powerful ones have formed gangs, and you pretty much have to belong to one of them if you want to live long in there. I've even heard that the authorities in charge of the place deliberately short vital supplies, like food and water, and allow in a certain amount of drugs too, just to keep the gangs at each other's throats, as if they needed any inducement to fight."

Radek felt his ire rise, but it was not directed at Sheppard. "But... but this is barbaric!" he cried, then shook his head angrily. "You may be certain, Major Sheppard," he said, "that should I ever feel the need to take action against you, I would never, ever stoop so low as to consign you, or any other sentient being to such a fate. I will kill you myself first."

Sheppard looked at him, hard, possibly gauging his sincerity. "Honestly," he said with a wry, slightly pained smile, "it's kind of a relief to hear that."

"As a Wolf of honor," Radek said seriously, "I am not in the habit of letting foreign governmental agencies settle my grudges for me, and certainly never in such a manner -even were you my deadliest enemy."

"So..." Sheppard replied thoughtfully after a moment, "I'm not?"

"Not what?" Radek asked in return.

"Not your deadliest enemy," Sheppard answered. Radek only rolled his eyes a little in reply.

"Who would you consider more deadly, Major?" he said. "Creatures from stories your grandmother told you as a child, or ten thousand year old monster who has just killed two valuable colleagues and attempted to kill your mate and his best friend?"

"Well when you put it that way..." Sheppard said with a trace of a genuine smile.

"Seriously, Major," Radek said, feeling himself relax by degrees -enough so that he felt comfortable moving to sit in the chair at Sheppard's bedside. "I have only today learned what you are, but you have known of me from the beginning. Have you not felt me to be your deadly enemy all this time, as everyone says we must be?"

"If I ever felt that way about any wolf," Sheppard answered after a moment, "I could never let anyone guess what I felt. Anything that might reveal who... and what I was, I've had to hide, and honestly, I've been doing it so long, I think I've forgotten how to feel things like that."

Radek looked at him hard for some time, feeling something akin to pity, but also admiration. "And your heritage... your people's history... they mean so little to you now?" Sheppard's frown, and the cold bitterness in his eyes as he considered his answer revealed more about the difficulty of this choice than his words did.

"Not as much as flying," he only said, his voice flat and a little resigned.

"And your family? Your tribe?" Radek asked. "What do they think of this choice you have made?"

"There's been no love lost," Sheppard replied after a moment, his flat, bitter tone unchanged, "between my father and me. I renounced my tribe and changed my identity when I entered the Airforce Academy, so they wouldn't find me out through my family... and that didn't go down particularly well with any of them." He was quiet for a moment and Radek couldn't think of anything to ask after that, so a moment later he posed a question for Radek.

"What about your family, and your pack?" he asked. "I've always heard that wolves tend to be homebodies."

Radek nodded, acknowledging the truth of Sheppard's words. "My mother always told me that she knew that my mind was too lively and curious," he replied, "and that I would never be content to stay with the pack in Mosty u Jablunkova. Still, she wept when I departed, saying how she feared that I would live out my days alone and un-mated -a very sad thing for any wolf- and I expected no different. I wish I could tell her that this is not so now."

"All the more motivation for you science guys to figure out a way to contact Earth, right?" Sheppard said lightly. Radek replied with a wry smile.

"I trust that you know," he said, "that we 'guys in science' no more need additional motivation to contact Earth than 'you guys in the military' need more motivation to find ZedPM for powering and defending city, yes?"

"Point taken," Sheppard acquiesced with a nod.

"In addition," Radek continued, "as much as you have said that there is no need to me to trust you, I would much rather prefer to do so. If I may make my point with a hypothetical situation? Should the dark day ever come that you allow, by some neglect or malfeasance, for Rodney to be killed, it is very unlikely that I will be able to prevent myself from killing you, or at least trying to."

Sheppard nodded soberly.

"In these circumstances, however," Radek continued, "there is some question of how motivated I would be to survive such an encounter. I may speculate that there might be equally low motivation on your part?" Sheppard nodded again, his eyes grim.

"Then the outcome of such events," Radek concluded, "would quite possibly be that Atlantis loses military head, as well as both lead scientists. A disastrous outcome for Atlantis and those living here and, all humility aside, for Earth as well, yes?"

"Yeah," Sheppard said in a low voice. "I see your point."

"Major," Radek said, daring to lay a hand on his arm, just below the new bandages there. "I know for a fact that we are both men of above average intelligence. We both have far more goals in common than otherwise. I can trust in this, above all else, and I believe you can too."

Sheppard nodded after a thoughtful moment, gazing down at where Radek was touching him. "I think you may be right about that, doc." At last, Radek saw the man start to relax a little, and felt the last bit of his own wariness depart. They could do this, he thought, as he and Sheppard made their farewells.

Radek marveled at himself just a bit, slipping into the quarters he shared with Rodney, and into his bed beside his sleeping lover. He marveled at how much harder it was to feel at ease about Sheppard, now that he knew what he was, but also at how quickly they had come to an understanding.

The heart of the matter, however was something that Radek suspected neither one of them was ready to speak of explicitly. They did have many goals in common, but the chiefest of these was the protection of, and devotion to, Rodney McKay, and that ran a little too close to Radek's instincts to be the sole supporter and protector of his mate. Rationally, it was easy to allow others to serve this goal, especially at times when he wasn't there to do it himself, but the wolf in him remained uneasy whenever Rodney went off world without him. 

Knowing that the man who would be his mate's most devoted protector was a vampire didn't quite sit well with him either, but the wolf was not incapable of learning and adapting, and today Radek knew that he would be able to adapt to this as well. Rodney's confidence that he would be able to do so had lent much strength to this endeavor, and Radek felt more than a little proud of himself for pulling it off. Snuggling close to his mate, Radek felt Rodney stir and then roll to face him, half waking to greet him.

"No killing?" Rodney mumbled.

"No killing, miláčku," Radek replied with a tender kiss. "Your faith in me has been well rewarded."

"'Course it was," Rodney said, already falling back to sleep. The unassuming confidence warmed Radek to his soul. He knew with his own certainty, as he drifted off to sleep in his lover's arms, that he would move heaven and earth to avoid disappointing this man, and that as long as Rodney had faith in him, it would not be possible for him to fail.

****


	4. Tale the Third: Protector

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Defending his mate from the Wraith during the siege, Radek discovers something about Wolves and Wraith -lore about his own people and their purpose, lost, possibly on purpose, long ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers: Season 1-2, mostly "The Seige" pts 1 and 2. A little bit of dialogue is lifted from there.

**[Tale the Third: Protector](http://tdancinghands.livejournal.com/63602.html#cutid1) **

 

They'd had their biggest fight about the mission to the satellite, with Rodney saying (shouting and waving his hands) that they couldn't afford to risk both the best scientists on Atlantis, and Radek saying (partially in Czech) that there were limits to how much a wolf could endure of his mate imperiling his life alone. In the end Rodney had relented, on the condition that Radek bring his own space suite, because Rodney did not care to see his own mate putting himself at risk either, and finally everyone ended up bringing spacesuits and it had saved both Radek Zelenka's life, and Peter Grodin's.

There was no time for 'I told you so's, though, nor even more than a moment to feel relief that they'd all survived, for their single, successful strike against the Wraith armada had only bought them a little time. Radek had had an uncomfortable suspicion that more sacrifices would be demanded of them before any sort of victory could be achieved, and while he was primarily motivated to make sure that this sacrifice would not come from his mate, it came as a surprise to Radek to discover how much he did not want it to come from John Sheppard either. All this in spite of the fact that the man was a vampire and, as such, Radek should have considered him a mortal enemy.

Seeing the devastation in his mate's eyes as they met in the control room to witness Sheppard's sacrifice, Radek found, to his dismay, that the feeling was echoed in his own heart. Worse, Radek knew what all of them did, but did not speak of: another sacrificed might well be called for, and it must come from either his mate, or their dear friend, Carson Beckett. Radek himself would have gladly given up his life to save either of theirs, but this was not an option, for he did not have the gene and could not fly the jumper to carry their remaining nuclear bomb. Never before had Radek ever regretted that fact so bitterly.

He winced -they all did- as the brilliant flash, heralding their friend's triumph, and his death, flooded the sky. He clutched at his mate's hand as a wave of grief swept over them all... and then a miracle happened.

Hearing John's voice over the intercom seemed at once utterly normal and profoundly shocking, and Radek and Rodney supported each other as they both felt their knees nearly give way for a moment. Then the time for relief and celebration was past as the real miracle -a fully charged ZedPM- was beamed directly to the control room and now, everything depended on them.

Naturally, Rodney had wanted Radek to stay in the control room to manage things there, while he ventured forth to the power room, but he backed down the moment he saw the two man escort they'd been able to round up for him. Radek took one look at the assembled force and turned to Dr Weir, asking her permission to avail himself of the privacy of her office for a moment. Radek was by nature a modest man and really preferred, whenever possible, not to Change in public.

He left his clothes folded neatly on chair and was back out, standing at his mate's side a moment later. For once the scientist and the wolf in Radek were in complete agreement; they both understood the necessity of Rodney's going, and both knew, without question, where Radek's mate needed him to be. Rodney seemed to be in agreement as well, for Radek could feel his mate's anxiety subside a measure when the wolf came to join him. The fear that still vibrated between the two of them was that death might be waiting for both of them in this venture, but it was the consequences of their failure -for all of Atlantis and Earth- that they feared more than their own demise.

They would rise to the occasion, therefor, Radek swore to himself, and would not fail -not the city, nor each other.

Radek would not fault himself for feeling that resolve waver, only a little while later, with both their marine escort lying unconscious and the Wraith, grinning with the confidence of his recent victories, striding towards them. As a man, Radek's heart might have failed him then, but the wolf knew nothing of despair. The instinct to protect carried him forward, and the wolf's single-mindedness spared him from the reflection that leaping for the wraith's throat might be the last thing he ever did. The wolf's awareness of the moment brought him only the sound of Rodney's cry of alarm and the Wraith's roar of defiance in the face of this new enemy, and then there was flesh under his teeth, and visceral pleasure of tearing, biting... and the bitter tang of alien blood on his tongue.

It burned in his mouth, though that did not stop him from biting deeper, tearing at the enemy -not at first. The smell and taste began to overwhelm him after a moment, however, and distracted him so that he lost his grip and the Wraith gained one, striking him hard in the ribs and hurling him away. Radek hit the floor hard, a yelp huffing out of him as he landed, and then he was retching, vomiting up the black, alien blood that he had swallowed.

Radek heard another cry of distress from Rodney, and knew impotent frustration at his own vulnerability at the moment, trying desperately to shake off the nausea and return to the fight. It was Rodney who reached his side a moment later, however, and not the Wraith, and Radek saw why when his vision cleared enough to focus on the Wraith, lying a handful of paces distant.

It was writhing on the floor where it had fallen, clawing at its torn throat. It was not healing. It was making a horrible, choked and gurgling version of that scream they made when they were wounded or angry, and the sound seemed to curdle Radek's guts and made him retch again, but the wraith wasn't healing itself. In fact, it seemed to be dying.

"Poisoner!" it gargled, spitting blood. "We defeated your vile kind once... we will easily do so again..." and then it convulsed and died.

"...the hell?" Rodney said, clearly as confounded as Radek. Besides being confounded, however, Radek was still desperate to get the Wraith blood off and out of his mouth. He pawed at the blood soaked fur around his muzzle, desperately wishing for something like a clear, running stream, to wash it all away. Thankfully, Rodney seemed to pick up on his desire as well.

"Damn," he said, casting about for the a solution. "You don't suppose there's a working WC in this sector, do you? Wait, yes..." he was thinking aloud now. "Isn't there one just across from that balcony...?"

Radek could not for the life of him recall, but followed Roney's pointing gesture and struggled to his feet. He tried to scent the possibility of fresh water in the air, but all he could smell was wraith blood, which only made him feel sick again.

"Come on," Rodney was saying and Radek followed, on blind trust, knowing he would not be disappointed. He was not. One of Atlantis's 'wall of water' style urinals was exactly what he needed, for the water started running as soon as their presence was detected in the washroom and Radek plunged his muzzle into the swiftly running trough at the base, gratified to see the dark swirls of tainted water being carried away.

Rodney knelt at his side, helping him scrub away at the places where the blood clung to his fur, but backed away quickly when Radek raised his dripping head, warning his mate with a look that he was about to shake himself dry. Radek gave a little huff of a laugh as Rodney squawked in indignation at being spattered slightly in spite of his retreat, then plunged his head back into the clear, clean running water. He washed his mouth and muzzle two more times, and was about to go back for a third and final rinse when they both herd a voice, quietly calling out a greeting.

Rodney reached for his side arm automatically before realizing that it was empty, then let Radek crowd him back, away from the door. Radek peered cautiously past the entrance, and came nearly face to face with Teyla. Both jumped back in surprise, then then let out nervous laughs a moment later.

"Teyla!" Rodney cried with subdued joy and relief. "Where were you? We thought maybe..."

"My radio was broken and I was separated from my group," she explained as Radek returned to the water for his final rinse. "I was trying to make my way back when I saw the dead wraith in the corridor there, and then heard the water running in here... and I did not think it would be the wraith..."

"Good call," Rodney said, lifting his hands to shield himself as Radek shook himself dry all over, one last time. "Turns out that Radek's bite is poison to the Wraith, but their blood also seems to make him sick. We came here so he could wash it off."

"Truly?" Teyla's look was astonished, but also assessing as she met Radek's eyes. "I could see that it was no ordinary weapon which had killed that wraith... it was you, Dr Zelenka?" Radek nodded with a little added woof for emphasis.

"Your bite is truly poisonous to the Wraith?" she asked further, trying not to seem incredulous, though Radek could not blame her. He was feeling a little incredulous himself.

"You think that's strange?" Rodney commented. "The wraith seemed to know what Radek was, called him 'poisoner' and said the Wraith had 'defeated his kind' before. Have you ever heard any stories from your people about any creatures able to poison the Wraith?"

"I have not," Teyla answered, "but I will be sure to inquire of our Tale Keepers when I next have the opportunity. For now, however, I presume you have some vital errand that has brought you to this place?"

"Oh, yes," Rodney replied, seeming to just now recall their mission. "We have a ZedPM!"

"So you do," Teyla replied.

"This may get the shields up," he explained, grabbing up the case he'd set down just inside the washroom door.

"Lead the way," Teyla said with a smile, then smiled wider still as Radek pushed his way to the front and she realized that she'd addressed her request to the wrong person.

"Yeah, sure..." Rodney replied, glancing between the two of them. "Uh, after you."

They met only one other wraith on their way to the power room, and Teyla brought it down with her P-90, letting Radek finish it off with a slash to the throat with his teeth. He was careful, and managed to get very little of the creature's blood in his mouth, but was still grateful when Teyla poured him a little of the water from her canteen to rinse it. She had watched the wraith writhe and die after Radek's poison had entered its body with admiring astonishment.

"This is truly a miraculous thing you are able to do, Radek," she said, recapping her canteen as she stood. "All of us who fear the wraith will rejoice to hear of it."

 _'Poisoner'_ Radek thought to himself as they continued on their way, considering all those who would not rejoice to hear of his newly discovered -or perhaps rediscovered- talent. Somewhere there was a tale, a history about his people he did not know, and much would hang on his learning it.

"Radek, I'm going to need your hands," Rodney announced as they finally arrived at their destination and checked in with the control room. The urgency of his request was unmistakable and Radek knew that his preference for modesty must be overlooked. Still, it came as a welcome surprise when Teyla offered him her jacket to tie around his waist as he stood, wincing from aches that the wolf had not felt.

The jacket served as little more than a 'fig leaf', but Radek felt it as a comfort, and was grateful for it. Rodney only offered him a brief, wry smile and put him to work, and together they got the ZedPM installed and the shield up, seconds before the remains of the wraith armada slammed into them.

There should have been a time to relax after that, but there wasn't. Rodney tried to convince Radek to keep his human form as they headed back to the control room, for he knew the frequent Changes would eventually exhaust Radek, but there were still wraith in the city. Radek could smell them, and it was impossible not to take the wolf to protect his mate as they made their way back.

And that was how it went for the next several days.

Radek had never imagined that it was possible for a wolf to Change as many times as he did over those days, and it was exhausting. Carson gave him glucose injections and vitamins, and Rodney plied him with energy bars and begged him to keep the same form for the rest of the day, but Radek couldn't make himself do anything else. Rodney was needed all over the city to work on vital repairs, and as long as there remained wraith at large, Radek was powerless but to take the wolf and accompany him. Once at the repair site, however, Radek would sense immediately how much more quickly Rodney could be finished if he had Radek's hands and speech, and so would become human again for the duration. Rodney took to carrying a lab coat with him for the sake of Radek's modesty, and Radek loved him for it.

Radek did not miss the concern he saw in his mate's eyes, but he did not miss the fatigue there, either. They were all run ragged, pressed to the limits of their endurance, and worried sick -about the city and about each other. The two days that Sheppard was gone with the Daedalus on what Radek feared was a terribly risky endeavor both Radek and his mate fretted and did not speak at all about what preyed upon them. Rodney had wanted to go, Radek knew, but Sheppard, much to Radek's relief, had forbidden it.

"They need you on Atlantis," he'd said, in that no-nonsense tone Radek had come to respect. "And while I won't say we couldn't use you on the Daedalus, we've got Hermiod, and we can manage without."

"We need you on Atlantis too," Radek had found himself saying, finding the surprise in Sheppard's eyes matching that which he felt in his heart. "We will both be very displeased if you fail to return, yes?"

They were both relieved when he did return, almost enough to balance the disappointing news he brought. That left the ball back in their court again, which neither Rodney nor Radek were terribly surprised about, as exhausted as they were. In retrospect, Radek had no idea how his brain had turned out anything short of gibberish as he and Rodney labored to find a way to make the jumpers' cloak work on the city, but Rodney would always insist that Radek had, indeed, made meaningful contributions.

He'd been needed in the jumper bay, in the end, and he'd been needed in his human form, and so he had gone, focusing what was left of his concentration on the task at hand. Ordinarily, he would have sensed Ford's presence long before he came close enough to strike. A mind so unsettled gives off a multitude of clues that even a pup would notice, but Radek's awareness was threadbare at best by then.

He'd felt the accumulated fatigue from the last several days begin to demand their due the moment he had seen that the cloak was working, thinking that now, perhaps, he could finally rest, when Ford came up behind him and caught him completely unawares. Radek had felt the pain of the blow, and a moment of terror and dismay at having been caught when victory was so close... and then the darkness had taken him at last.

 

He had never been so pleased to find himself in the infirmary upon waking. It took some time before Radek was able to draw on his senses enough to learn anything further about his surroundings -an indication of how exhausted he still was- but he could sense his mate's presence, and knew that there was nothing more troubling the man than his own fatigue and a tinge of worry about Radek. He would allay that worry, as soon as he could, and then they could both really rest at last.

It took rather more effort than it should have, to move his hand until it made contact with Rodney's arm. He was hunched over and half resting on the bed, of course, and gods knew what it was doing to his back, but so exhausted that he had fallen asleep anyway. Rodney stirred, then moaned as Radek's touch woke him.

"Slowly, miláčku," Radek cautioned gently. "You will have tied your back into a knot."

Rodney mumbled something less than intelligible, then slowly raised his head, blinking. "Radek?" he managed finally. "You're awake?"

"I am," Radek answered, "though I would like nothing more, at the moment, than to return to our rooms, with you, and get some proper rest."

"Definitely..." Rodney interrupted himself with a groan as he pushed himself upright. "Definitely a good idea; possibly one of your best..." He was interrupted by Carson, likely alerted to their wakefulness by Rodney's groan, trotting in to check on them.

"More rest is definitely an excellent plan for the both of you," he said, checking Radek's pulse and glancing carefully into his eyes. "And I'm happy to let you take it in your own quarters, as soon as ye've both got a bit of nourishment down ye."

Radek's encounter with Ford had left him with a mild concussion, Carson explained as radioed the mess to have someone send down a couple of sandwiches. "Though I think you might have set some sort of record," he commented, "for Changing the most times in the space of a few days. I don't believe I've ever heard of any wolf ever doing as much."

Radek shrugged. "I only did what was needed," he replied. "I do not think I could have done any different if I wanted to." Any reply Carson might have made was preempted then by the arrival of their food, carried in by Major Sheppard.

If Rodney was surprised at this he gave no indication, but laid into the sandwiches with his usual enthusiasm. Seeing him reminded Radek of his own hunger, but he did not fail to note that Sheppard remained as they ate, even after Carson had departed. Radek watched him with sidelong glances, seeing Sheppard's usual, carefully casual posture as he leaned against the door, evidently waiting for them. His scent gave away nothing but honest concern, however, and Radek let his natural wariness fade.

Rodney finished first, remembering to thank Sheppard as he finished, with his mouth still full, and gesturing with the water bottle in his hand. Radek reiterated, slightly more intelligibly, a moment later.

"No prob," Sheppard replied, shrugging away from the wall to push himself upright. "Just wanted to make sure you guys were both okay."

Sheppard had been waiting on him, just like Rodney, Radek mused. "As you see, we are fine," he replied, reaching a hand out to Sheppard so that he could help Radek up.

There was a warmth in the smile that Sheppard gave in answer, and it was the real smile -the one Radek did not see so often. He swayed a little as he stood, but then he was supported, Rodney on one side, Sheppard on the other. He placed his arms around both their shoulders as they walked back to his and Rodney's rooms, glad of the assistance, but unable to avoid his awareness of Sheppard and what he was.

Should it not have felt... repulsive? disturbing? to hold a vampire so close? But it felt like none of those things. Instead, Radek was aware only of Sheppard's warmth and sinewy strength, and of the dark hunter that lay beneath his skin, that woke the wolf within him. The wolf felt no animosity, however, which was, perhaps, the most surprising thing of all. It was instead... fascinated, just as Radek found himself to be.

Sheppard's smile was mainly cordial as they arrived at their quarters and bid him farewell, but Radek thought that it was maybe just a little intrigued as well. Did the dark hunter within him feel the same fascination Radek's wolf did? Radek lifted his gaze to Rodney's, thinking to ask him something, and then the door closed and he was alone with his mate, and nothing else mattered.

It was closeness that Radek craved more than anything else just then, and Rodney understood, drawing Radek into his arms to hold him tight. Radek could have held his mate thus for hours, but their fatigue intruded before very long. They both wanted a shower before sleeping, and they barely managed it, each of them practically holding the other up throughout the procedure. Afterward, mostly dry, they stumbled into bed together, but once there, found sleep somewhat elusive.

"I can't believe it's really all over," Rodney finally said over Radek's shoulder, his broad chest pressed warmly against Radek's back. "Some part of me keeps expecting yet another crisis to pop up the minute I start to doze off."

"I know what you mean," Radek said, curling closer. That was true, but there was one more thing preying on Radek's mind and holding sleep at bay. He let the largely comfortable silence stretch between them for several moments before giving it voice. "Did you not find it... unexpected," he finally asked, "that Sheppard was waiting for us?"

"Not really," Rodney's answer was quick, almost unthinking, and told Radek more that Rodney's words had.

"No?" he asked, wanting to understand more.

"He... he cares," Rodney finally managed, wrapping his arms a little tighter around Radek's body. "About his team... and... and about me... and us."

Radek nodded, knowing Rodney would feel the movement. Radek sensed the truth of his mate's words -saw the truth of them as he reflected on his memories of their missions together with Sheppard. He saw another truth then as well. "And you...?" he asked, knowing his mate would hold nothing back.

"Um... maybe?" Rodney answered. "He's... It's not just that he's saved my life a bunch of times... 'cause, you know, he has, but I... I don't think he thinks anyone else cares..." Rodney trailed off, but Radek could hear the memory of Sheppard's words to Rodney -thinking they might be his last- echoing in the silence between them... _'So long Rodney...'_

"And... I do," Rodney said, just a little frightened and just a little daring, in that very Rodney way that made Radek love him all the more. He lifted one of his mate's hands to his lips to kiss, reassuring and affectionate, and he felt his lover relax around him.

"It may be," Radek said, a little daring himself now, "that I do as well."

He felt his mate's arms draw him close again, and felt warm, familiar lips press against the nape of his neck. The issue resolved, Radek felt wakefulness's hold on them broken at last, and both welcomed sleep with open arms.

Later, when Radek would, perforce, ask himself how it had become possible for him, a wolf, to care for a vampire -supposedly his mortal enemy- Radek considered that the terrible events of the siege of Atlantis had served as a sort of forge, and no one who had passed through it had remained unchanged. It had not changed who he was, nor who Sheppard was, but it had changed what they thought they were capable of -whether that be staying awake for days on end, or coming to care about someone that every thing he knew said he should detest.

Another wolf might have found such changes alarming, but Radek knew full well, from the moment he had made the decision to step through the stargate and leave the familiar behind, that he was no ordinary wolf. He was honest with himself, however, enough to know that he was not entirely untroubled at these developments. Radek Zelenka was far too intelligent to imagine that no such crisis would ever visit their city again, and when it did come, more changes would come with it.

Radek had always known that Atlantis would take him to places no wolf had ever been, but he'd had no idea of how far she would take him, and even less of how much of a journey still lay before him. He was honest enough to admit to the fear he felt when he tried to imagine it, but knew better than to fear that his heart would fail him, or that he would ever turn back.

Together, he and his mate had cast their lots in with Atlantis, and wherever she lead them, they would follow.

***


	5. Tale the Fourth: New Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Major Even Lorne comes to Atlantis, settles in, and learns something unexpected about his CO, and about himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers: Early Season 2, mostly "Runner".

**[Tale the Fourth: New Wings](http://tdancinghands.livejournal.com/63774.html#cutid1) **

 

Major Evan Lorne was not proud of his first reaction to his new posting on Atlantis, but it was understandable. Three months prior to his reassignment his grandmother had passed away and, upon her passing, delivered something of a bombshell that had thrown his entire family into turmoil and held serious repercussions for his career as well. Since his grandfather was seven years dead, no one would be able to grill him as to how he had not known that his wife was a full blooded Fae, a sylph, no less, but that did nothing to stop the recriminations. Evan had wanted no part of this burgeoning family feud, and had never been so glad of the limited leave time that had him back to the SGC only a couple of days after the funeral.

Lorne was definitely a by-the-book kind of guy, and so he’d reported the update in his family background as soon as he got back. Sylphs -a common variety of Air Spirit- weren’t on anyone’s dangerous Fae list, but the American military required the reporting of all otherworldly heritage in it’s soldiers, and Evan had no particular objection. He knew some guys tried to keep that stuff hidden, though he thought it foolish. The penalty for discovery was severe, and Lorne didn’t care for that sort of risk to his career. Only a few days after he’d made this report, however, Evan had started to have regrets.

He’d worked for his wings, god dammit, and he’d worked hard, but now it seemed that everyone around him had forgotten they had ever seen him busting his ass on the simulators or burning the midnight oil studying. “So that explains why you’re such an ace,” he heard, again and again, from both officers and peers, and frankly, it rankled. It came as just one more indignity then, when General Landry called him into his office to offer the ‘option’ of joining the Atlantis Expedition.

“What with your newly discovered heritage,” he’d said with the sort of thoughtless joviality that made Lorne have to remind himself that punching an officer -especially a General- would be really bad for his career. “I believe you’ll find that you... ‘fit in’ there quite well.”

Eventually, Evan had to admit that getting to fly a puddle jumper went a long way towards making up for giving up his X302, and he even got to fly those occasionally, when the Daedalus was in. It wasn’t that the posting was bad, it was just the reason he’d gotten it that bothered Lorne, and made it hard for him to feel like he really belonged there, regardless of Landry’s promise.

Lorne knew it was up to him to make his place on Atlantis, but he was working with a group of people who’d gone through hell together, and Lorne knew just what kinds of bonds an experience like that forms. He hadn’t been part of that, and would never be part of them. This wasn’t to say that Colonel Sheppard wasn’t a great CO. He was a decent, easygoing guy, and included Lorne in pretty much everything that he might want to be included in -both professionally and socially. It wasn’t really anyone’s fault that there remained a gulf between him and the rest of the expedition ‘old timers’.

Having the ATA gene did go a long way towards bridging that gulf, some days. Lorne supposed he had his Fae grandmother to thank for that, as the gene was more common among the Fae than mortals (though there were a few Fae Lorne knew of who didn’t have it -like the wolf, Zelenka- and a few mortals who did, like Sheppard and Sergant Stackhouse). Doctor Beckett had started to try and explain it to him when he’d asked, but Evan’d had to cut him off after only a few minutes.

“Sorry, Doc,” he’d apologised, “but this is all way outside my area of expertise, if you know what I mean. I’m just glad I can fly the jumpers and we can leave it at that.”

Beckett had only laughed and welcomed him to Atlantis, and he’d meant it too; Evan could tell. The folks here weren’t cliquish or standoffish; they meant to make him welcome. Evan just couldn’t seem to make himself feel comfortable, and while he wondered, on some days, just what it would take before he did, on others he was afraid he knew the answer too well. He ended up proving himself right, finally, on P3M-736, while looking for a renegade member of Sheppard’s team.

Lorne had learned the value of tolerating, and even paying mind to the SGC’s geeks in the field long ago, watching Dr Jackson put an Airforce Colonel in his place. He liked to think he’d learned that lesson well too, but Dr Rodney McKay had certainly put his ability to tolerate geekly quirks to the test. Truth be told though, Evan would have to say that on that day, he had failed. 

At least, he should have had some clue that they were being followed before he got hit with the stunner, but McKay had distracted him and Ford had caught him completely flat footed. His last thoughts, as he crumpled to the ground, had been that he would deserve whatever he got when he woke up.

He’d been pretty sure, truth be told, that he was likely going to wake to the sight of a wraith coming to feed on him, or perhaps to find that he’d been wrapped in one of those cocoon things. He had definitely not expected to wake to the sight of his CO engaged in a _hand to hand_ struggle with a wraith, and expected even less what he saw when Sheppard’s face had turned toward him during the split second it had taken him to snap the wraith’s neck.

Certainly it nipped in the bud his burgeoning questions about how a lone man could take on a wraith in unarmed combat, but it raised a whole host of others that his recovering-from-a-wraith-stunner brain was not at all prepared to cope with. It was all he could do to stare like an idiot as Sheppard let the creature’s body drop and his vampiric features -the disturbingly luminescent eyes, the prominent and deadly fangs- began to disappear. It was then that Sheppard spotted him watching, and the man’s, now all too human, face went carefully blank.

“Sir...” Lorne managed, thankful for the comfortable fall-back position of military decorum, to cover the most awkward of moments. Sheppard only took a single step forward, the dead wraith all but forgotten behind him, and regarded Lorne with an unreadable look.

“I won’t try to beg or bargain with you, Major,” Sheppard said at last. “You do whatever you think you need to, and I won’t interfere.”

Try as he might, Lorne could not make out what Sheppard seemed to expect of him, save for a note of resignation in his voice as he had spoken. Lorne knew that John Sheppard had to have been hiding what he was for a long time, and maybe he’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop for a long time too. Still, Evan might have been half numb and woozy from being stunned, but he wasn’t stupid and he wasn’t an asshole.

“I, ah... I think you just saved my life, Sir,” he said at last, because he might have been a by-the-book kind of guy, but he also liked to think he knew what was important.

Sheppard said nothing at first, but he lifted his head, his expression going from carefully neutral to slightly curious. Eventually he shrugged, moving to stand at Lorne’s side. “You can make it up to me next mission,” he said casually. “You get a chance to see who nailed you?”

“Afraid not, Sir,” Lorne answered with honest chagrin, “and I have no idea where McKay went.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Sheppard replied, holding out a hand to help Lorne to his feet. This was a test too, Even could see as much, and he didn’t hesitate.

He reached up to take Sheppard’s hand, and was rewarded with a firm grip and strength that was no more than any mortal’s, pulling him to his feet. To his further chagrin, Loren found that standing on his own was still just a little beyond him, and so let Sheppard support him as they started on their way back to the jumper.

“Pretty sure it was Ford, and he probably took McKay with him,” Sheppard continued, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. “The other guy spotted him, says Ford more or less saved him from a wraith. This your first wraith stunner experience?”

“Um, yeah,” Lorne replied, struggling to keep up in more ways than one. “Been zatted, which hurts a helluvalot more, but I think the hangover on this is worse. Ah, what ‘other guy’?”

“‘Specialist Ronon Dex’,” Sheppard said. “Seems like he was in some sort of military at one point, but he’s been running from the wraith the last few years.”

As Sheppard updated Lorne of their situation, and the numb, tingling sensation from the wraith stunner slowly wore off, Evan began to wonder if the whole ‘your CO is really a vampire’ thing had been a stunner induced hallucination. Then Sheppard’s briefing came to an end and he paused, turning to look Lorne in the eye.

“So... I told myself I wasn’t going to ask,” he said after a moment. “But I don’t think I’m gonna manage...” Lorne nodded, aware of where this was going.

“It’s just...” it was decidedly odd, Evan decided, to see his usually confident and up-beat CO become suddenly hesitant. “You don’t look like a guy who’s ready to turn his CO in for being an unreported Class D Fae...”

“Probably because I’m not,” Lorne answered, honestly enough.

“No?” As uncertain as his answer seemed, Lorne could hear the relief that colored his commander’s voice.

“There is that whole ‘saving my life’ thing,” Lorne pointed out. “Plus... I guess I never much liked the idea of being a hypocrite.”

“How so?” Evan had never before noticed how well Sheppard tended to hide himself before, behind the very cordial and relaxed front he showed everyone, but he noticed now. Now that front had slipped, and Evan knew he was finally getting a glimpse of something few people ever saw -a man who worried about his command, and cared, deeply, for the people under him, and what they thought of him.

“You know why I got this assignment?” Lorne asked in turn. Sheppard shook his head.

“It’s supposed to be a volunteer posting,” he said. Lorne replied with a bitter laugh.

“Yeah, well, when General Landry ‘suggests’ that you might want to volunteer for a posting,” he said, “it isn’t exactly voluntary.”

“Fuck me!” Sheppard said with honest outrage. “Why?”

“You heard about my grandma, right?” Lorne answered. Sheppard had to actually think for a moment, and Lorne considered that his CO had taken in a lot of new personnel lately, and his profile might not have seemed that unusual.

“She’s where you got your Fae blood?” Sheppard replied, thinking out loud. “Oh, wait, you’re the guy who just found out a few months ago, right? And she was a Sylph?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Loren said with a sigh. “A bunch of my family really got their undies in a twist about it, but I thought, no big deal, right? I reported the change in my records, and figured it wouldn’t make any difference...” He trailed off with another sigh.

“I thought the SGC was supposed to have a more ‘enlightened attitude’ about Fae folk in the ranks,” Sheppard said.

“More enlightened than the Army, maybe,” Evan answered. “It was never anything big, not like the stuff that you hear about in the news. It’s just... it seems like everybody forgets you ever busted your ass, right along side them, for years. I’m not a good pilot because I worked at it, I’m good because it’s ‘natural’ for ‘my people’. Christ, Sheppard, I never met another Sylph in my life, that I know of. How can they be ‘my people’?”

“Cause ‘ _their_ people’ are morons,” Sheppard said with a smirk, and suddenly, just like that, the gulf between him and Sheppard was gone. Lorne grinned and ducked his head, feeling a warmth of belonging.

“Seriously though,” Sheppard continued. “The whole situation sucks big time, and Landry is an asshole -you wouldn’t be the first to say it- but I’m not sorry you’re here.”

“Seriously, Sir,” Lorne replied, “I’m not sorry I’m here either, so I guess I’ll forgive the man.”

The jumper came into view about then, and Sheppard got back to the business of rescuing Teyla and finding Ford and McKay, while Lorne recovered. While he didn’t manage to succeed in the latter goal, Sheppard did bring Specialist Ronan Dex in from the cold and eventually made him part of his team. This, Even came to understand, was typical for life in the Pegasus Galaxy, especially when you have your own team.

Sheppard had told Lorne to pick _his_ team after returning from the planet where they’d found Dex, and he’d worked with a variety of military and civilian personnel by then, so he had an idea of who he’d like to have. Landry hadn’t been wrong when he’d suggested that there were a lot of Fae and part Fae folk serving on Atlantis, so Evan knew that at least some of his team members would be Fae. He told himself it didn’t matter, but part of him felt relieved anyway, knowing that members of his team wouldn’t likely think less of him because of his heritage.

In the end, it was Marine Sergeant Aaron Stackhouse who was the only full mortal on Lorne’s team. Lt Laura Cadman was half Ifreet -some kind of fire elemental, as if one couldn’t guess- and Dr Schuyler (“Pronounced ‘Sky-ler’, but call me Sky, _please._ ”) Parrish, was a nearly full blood dryad. That was no secret either, as the gangly, mossy-green haired botanist had never tried to hide what he was.

Sometimes Evan wondered if he hadn’t picked Parrish because he’d seemed so much more pleasant when compared to McKay, though he certainly had his quirks. Later, he would come to consider that using McKay as a yardstick was damned useless, and that Parrish seemed determined to make him prematurely grey. Later still he would discover that Sky had been having him on the whole time. The botanist congratulated him when he figured it out.

“You Airforce fellows have a much higher tolerance for civilian idiosyncrasies than the Marines,” he pointed out. “That’s a survival factor in my book.”

“ _’Idiosyncracies’?_ ” Lorne said. “Is that what you call it? Well, you know what I call it? Hazing, pure and simple, and you are never going to convince me otherwise.”

“Call it what you like, dear,” Parrish said, patting Lorne on the cheek, “but the fact remains that you comported yourself with honor. Welcome to the family.”

Evan could only stare after him as he left, speechless, because he felt it suddenly, that he was part of a family, and because the touch of Sky Parrish’s hand on his cheek had made him feel... something very unexpected.

Being part of a family meant becoming aware of the open and semi open secrets that are present in any extended family, but this was nothing surprising to Evan, who’d grown up in a big family. What was a surprise was discovering that among certain of the full-blood and nearly full-blood Fae, Sheppard’s true nature was one of these semi open secrets.

“He’s here looking out for all of us,” Parrish explained one afternoon as they were leaving the infirmary, “so someone has to look out for him.”

They’d just come back from a successful, if eventful mission, helping a trading partner evacuate one of their villages which was currently endangered by a rapidly rising river. One of the village children had fallen in and Stackhouse -born an Ohio river rat- had gone in after her. He’d managed to rescue her, at the cost of a half a lungful of water and two cracked ribs, and Lorne knew better than to say anything about the riverside tree which had inexplicably leaned a branch low over the water just as Stackhouse and his rescuee had gone past.

He was pretty sure no one else had noticed, and they’d scored big points with the village elders -always a good thing. Dr. Weir had come to the infirmary, where they had gathered to see that Stackhouse was okay, to offer congratulations, and afterwards Evan and Parrish had stuck their heads in to pay a visit to Colonel Sheppard, recovering from a knife wound in an adjacent room. His team had apparently surprised a nest of Genii spies in the village they’d gone to visit.

McKay and Teyla had been there, of course, just as Cadman had elected to stay and keep Stackhouse company -though Lorne was personally convinced that she was also there to flirt with Carson.

“He doesn’t know we know, of course,” Parrish commented as they left Sheppard, “and he probably assumes that anyone who found out would immediately despise him...”

Lorne thought of the bleak, resigned look on his CO’s face when he saw that Lorne had noticed him in his vampiric aspect, and knew that Parrish was absolutely right. “I doubt you’re wrong about that,” Lorne said grimly, nodding.

“But you should know, even if he doesn’t,” Parrish said, “that there isn’t one of us who wouldn’t give everything we have, every gift and talent, to help him, if he ever needed it.”

“Yeah,” said Lorne soberly. “Same here, ungifted though I may be.”

Parrish nodded in satisfaction, then paused and looked up at Lorne, his gaze piercing. “You truly believe you have no gifts?”

Lorne grimaced, the sudden turn of conversation making him uncomfortable. Fae folk didn’t generally speak of their ‘gifts’ -the odd talents and small magics that even part Fae folk often had, and Lorne still didn’t much like talking about his newly discovered heritage. “Nothing’s ever come up, so far as I know,” he said. “And I’m only one eighth Fae. Probably not enough to come with any fringe benefits.”

Parrish’s gaze remained on him for a long moment, and Lorne tried to ignore the complex feelings it incited in him. “Hmm,” was all Parrish said in the end, his look suggesting he’d just been given some complex botanical mystery to puzzle out. Lorne was not used to being on the receiving end of such looks, and it undid him a little.

It was probably the reason that Parrish had such an easy time convincing Evan to go watch a movie with him after dinner. They’d planned to watch “Master and Commander” as a team that evening, but Stackhouse and Cadman could watch it in the infirmary later, so it was just Evan and Parrish who ensconced themselves in the botanists’ break room to watch the movie on their big screen. 

Every department had their own break room, but botany’s was one of the nicest, and not only because the room was always filled with really nice looking flowers and plants. The sofa there was really comfy too, and so the two teammates sat together, a bowl of popcorn mixed with Milk Duds propped between them.

When the credits finally rolled Evan found himself loath to shift, particularly as Parrish had come to lean his long, lanky self against Evan as the movie went on. It was comfortable, and Parrish’s presence was... nice. Some part of Evan knew perfectly well where he would like that to lead, but he also knew better than to hold out any hopes. Parrish was his teammate, and the last thing Lorne wanted to do was to make the man uncomfortable by hitting on him.

Still, Parrish didn’t seem to be in any hurry to leave either as the video returned to the menu screen and the two men remained settled comfortably on the sofa. Evan was not quite surprised when Parrish finally spoke, though what he said was not at all expected.

“You know, you are definitely more than one eighth Fae, Major,” he said, conversationally.

Loren blinked in surprise. “I um, I don’t know how that could be,” he replied. “It really is only my grandmother who had any Fae blood in my family.”

“You mean she’s the only one who ‘fessed up,” Parrish said with a smirk that Evan should have found insulting, but found perversely endearing instead.

“And you know this how?” Lorne countered, reaching for the remote to turn the video off.

“Fae blood sings to Fae blood, Major,” Parrish said, matter-of-factly, “at least for those of us of full or nearly full blood. At a guess, I’d say you were at least a quarter Fae, but Beckett could confirm it for you, if you asked him to do the tests.”

Lorne nodded thoughtfully. Twenty years back the US Supreme Court had forbidden the military from making genetic background tests mandatory for its members -which was the only reason Sheppard had managed to get as far as he had- and Evan had never thought it necessary for himself. He’d reconsidered after learning about his grandmother, but if he did get tested the military would have the right to see the results. As long as he didn’t, he couldn’t be busted for keeping secret something he didn’t know.

“You know Carson would keep it off the books if you asked him,” Parrish said, as though reading Evan’s thoughts. “But there’s no way you don’t have any gifts. I can practically feel them.”

Once again, Evan found the conversation stirring a sense of anxiety in him, and he wasn’t sure why. “I swear,” he said, “there’s never been a hint of anything, and I’d be the first to know, wouldn’t I?” 

Even as he asked the question, however, Evan felt the unpleasant answer waiting for him to face it. It was one thing to be told that some member of your family was Fae, but quite another to admit that this meant that you were Fae as well, and always had been. Owning any gift or talent would irrevocably make Evan Lorne ‘One Of Them’, and Evan wasn’t at all sure he was ready to face that.

The touch of Parrish’s hand on his shoulders, the long fingers warm through his shirt, calmed Evan’s rising anxiety somewhat, and he forced himself to meet Parrish’s eyes. “It won’t change who you are, Evan,” he said, his voice gentler than Evan had ever heard it, and it drew a fragment of fearful honesty from him.

“I know it won’t,” he said. “It just means that I never really knew who I was, doesn’t it?”

“No, of course not,” Parrish replied earnestly, his hand remaining firm on Evan’s shoulder. “Part of you always knew. The part of you that sought the sky; that part always knew.”

In a flash, Evan found his trust evaporating and all the old resentments were back. He pulled away, tense and angry. “So you think so too,” he snapped, “that the only reason I’m a good pilot is because of my goddamn grandmother.”

“What? No!” Parrish leaned forward to grab at Lorne’s hand, not letting him escape. “Of course not. Fae folk have no affinity whatsoever for machinery and technology. Honestly, your heritage probably gave you a handicap rather than an advantage in that respect.”

Evan subsided, confused. “But...” he said, “what _did_ I get from my grandmother, then?”

“Is there a love for the skies in your heart?” Parrish asked, laying his other hand there. “That’s from your grandmother. The skill in your hands and mind, the years of work it took to get them -that’s all you, Evan.”

Evan sat speechless for a long moment, feeling a number of things suddenly slot into place. Parrish’s words had thrown a brilliant light on the very matters that had troubled Evan’s heart from the moment he had learned of his heritage, and perhaps even earlier. Moreover, feeling the dryad’s hand over his easing heart, Evan felt something wake there which had lain sleeping for all his life.

He felt something like a wind move through him at its waking, and Evan found himself lifting his own hand to cover Parrish’s over his heart. Now something warm and laughing was growing there and suddenly the wind wasn’t just inside him, it was moving through the closed and windowless room, lifting papers, stirring the leaves of the plants all around them and ruffling Sky Parrish’s mossy green hair. Evan watched the wide, wide smile grow on Sky’s face, and then those smiling lips were kissing his and the wind was back inside them both, fanning the spark of a sudden and unexpected passion.

“There, you see?” Sky said, the joy dancing in his emerald eyes when they had drawn back to breathe.

“You’re insufferable, you know,” Evan said, grinning back.

“And you wouldn’t have it any other way,” Sky said, standing and pulling Evan to his feet. He was right, of course, and so Evan followed him back to his quarters without another word.

 

As far as Evan Lorne was concerned, the little gift he’d discovered in the botanist’s break room that night was enough for him, but Sky seemed to suspect that there was more to come. He never said so aloud, of course, but Lorne could definitely tell. Still, it came as a considerable surprise some nights later, as Evan sat, straddling Sky’s long, pale body, with the dryad’s cock filling him, thrusting into him so wonderfully, feeling like he was flying with ecstasy, to feel the wings -real wings, tawny gold and massive- spring from his shoulders.

Sky was, of course, nearly unbearably smug for weeks afterward, but Evan had kind of gotten used to it by then, and maybe even found it a little endearing. Evan Lorne knew he belonged then too, but not because anyone else changed how they were with him. He had thought from the beginning that he was the one who’d needed to make a place fro himself, and now he saw that a place had always been there for him.

Atlantis had a place for someone with wings, and even before they’d appeared on his back, Evan Lorne now knew that they’d been there all along. The city had known, and those with eyes to see had seen, the wings that had always dwelt in Evan Lorne’s heart.

***


	6. Tale the Fifth: Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little by little, life on Atlantis forces John to certain uncomfortable conclusions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers: Season 2, mostly "Duet", “Trinity”, “Grace” (sort of, and out of order), and “Conversion”

**Tale the Fifth: Family**

 

John first figured out about Major Lorne and his botanist when the latter scientist and Lieutenant Cadman got stuck in the wraith dart. The airman was visibly anxious, and annoyingly underfoot, until Zelenka finally had to yell at him, and then he just sat on a stool at the back of the lab, where Zelenka had exiled him, looking abashed and miserable. John knew this because he himself was coming into the lab about twelve times a day to check on situation, and had, himself, gotten yelled at by Zelenka twice, and by Rodney three times.

John also know it wasn’t Cadman that his XO was fretting over, because Cadman had a thing for Beckett that she and everyone else knew was bound to be unrequited. The centaur didn’t date ‘two-legs’, as the doctor had so succinctly put it, nor did he date people more than a century younger then him. “I like to think I learn from my mistakes,” was all he ever said about the matter. In truth, John had heard rumors that Cadman had something going on with Miko Kusanagi, and the Japanese scientist (the offspring of some Kami, rumors also suggested) was there working along side the others, but her manner, as always, was inscrutable.

It was no longer the career killer it had once been, but even these days, forty years after the historic, International Fae Strike which had eliminated laws on miscegenation, sodomy and religious choices in a number of nations, members of the American military tended to keep their same sex relationships quiet. Laws aside, John Sheppard knew the ranks of the military in his country to be as rife with racists, homophobes and bigots as anywhere, and he tended to keep his own proclivities to himself as much as his heritage.

Still, he wanted Lorne to know that his commanding officer wasn’t one of the fore mentioned assholes, as little of a comfort as it might seem at the moment. When he came into the lab once on the second day to find McKay and Zelenka locked in a furious exchange about some technical point or other, John went and perched himself on a stool next to where Lorne sat, head in hands. He watched the show for a few minutes, until Zelenka’s language devolved to Czech, then turned to Lorne, who seemed possibly seconds from either murder or suicide.

“You know they’re really making progress when they get into it like that,” John said lightly. “When they get all quiet it’s because they’re stuck.”

“If you say so, sir,” Lorne answered, not at all sounding convinced. In a flash of insight, John realized what else might be adding to his XO’s burden.

“Major, if I’m ever picked up by a dart, I hope you shoot it down just as quick as you shot down this one,” he said, pouring every ounce of conviction he could into his words. “I’m serious, and I don’t think I’m the only one who’d really rather wake up dead than in a wraith cocoon.”

“He helped me find my wings, sir,” Lorne said, sitting up but still staring down at the floor, “and I may have repaid him with death. It’s real hard to feel okay about that.”

“You gave him a chance at a clean death, Major,” John replied, “and while that may seem like cold comfort, just take a second to picture what Parrish and Cadman would have faced -would be facing right now- if you hadn’t done what you did.”

It was an ugly picture that John was asking him to conjure up, and John could tell when he did because Lorne went suddenly pale and lowered his face back into his hands. “Jesus...” he gasped, shuddering.

John had trained himself not to touch, to prevent his nature from being revealed, among other things, but he reminded himself that Evan Lorne already knew what he was, and was in serious need of comfort just now. Tentatively, he laid a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Sorry, Major,” he said sincerely. “But fighting these bastards means making a lot of fucked up choices. You made the right one out there though, and unless I miss my guess, you’re gonna get your teammates back because of it.”

John could speak with confidence now, because the tenor of the chatter amongst the scientists had changed and he recognized the mood shift. They were on to something, and results would surely follow. Sure enough, a couple of hours later, Cadman and Parrish both materialized on the platform the scientists had marked out, and immediately collapsed unconscious on the lab floor. Carson was on hand, however, and shortly declared them fine for the most part, and trundled them off to the infirmary, Lorne and Kusanagi in his wake. 

John hung back. What followed would be personal, and none of his business. Instead he watched the scientists ‘high five’ each other and pass other jubilant congratulations around the lab before starting to clean up. McKay and Zelenka indulged themselves in a brief embrace and kiss. They weren’t generally publicly demonstrative, but they had no secrets to keep either.

Later, John would reflect that, while McKay and Zelenka might not be given to public displays of affection, their public displays of other sorts were well known No one on Atlantis was unaware of the enormous, screaming fight that had erupted between the two of them over Project Arcturus, and a great number had heard much of it with their own ears, whether they worked in the labs or not.

John had not only heard parts of it first hand, he had also ended up, through no choice of his own, being appointed by McKay as The Man In My Corner, when the scientist came to him later to explain why he was right and Zelenka was wrong, wrong, wrong, and how he needed John to back him up with Weir. John was willing, up to a certain point, but that point was crossed when he heard Dr Wier explain what Zelenka had told her. McKay had been furious with him, naturally, when John had refused to oppose her.

“She’s my boss, McKay,” John had explained, “And I have to work with her in the future, so no, I’m not going to go over her head and call the SGC.” No matter that this was exactly what Zelenka had done -gone over his boss’s head to get Dr Weir to put a stop to the project. It wasn’t fair, John had to own, but Zelenka clearly had his reasons and John wasn’t going to get any more involved than he already was.

Unfortunately, John’s choice not to entangle himself further earned him a frostily cold shoulder from McKay, suspicious and yet vaguely guilty looks from Zelenka, and slightly pitying looks from Wier. It sucked, with nearly black hole magnitude and no end in sight, until it got abruptly even more fucked up.

John tended to stay clear of the labs entirely lately, and so his information about the situation came, at best, through second or third hand sources -mainly from the botanists via Lorne. McKay and Zelenka had decamped to separate labs since their fight, and while it was not unusual for McKay to doss down on the cot in the physicists lounge from time to time, rumor had it that he was sleeping there every night now. Naturally, when it came time for Zelenka to oversee a shake-down cruise for one of the jumpers he’d just repaired, his usual routine of getting Rodney to do the actual test flight was not going to happen.

Wolves are often uncomfortable flying, Sheppard had observed in the past, so he was surprised when Zelenka chose to do the job himself, rather than procrastinating or fobbing the job off onto Kusanagi or Kavanagh. Still, the man had his pride, and John figured that was why. In his estimation, it probably ended up saving one of the other scientists’ lives, because he doubted anyone else would have sensed the subtle sound or vibration in the jumper’s engines that had tipped the engineer off that things were not running as they should.

It had evidently worried him enough that Zelenka had directed the pilot, Griffin, to turn the jumper around, not quite three quarters of the way to the mainland. As a result, they’d been nearly back to Atlantis when things really began to go wrong, and Griffin had been able to direct the craft just enough to get it to crash on the northwest pier, instead of into the ocean. Poor Griffin still hadn’t survived, and Zelenka nearly hadn’t either.

Even a wolf will have a hard time with a concussion, three cracked ribs and one broken one which had punctured a lung, two broken legs and a sprained wrist, and it was two days before he woke up. McKay was, of course, at his bedside for nearly every minute of those two days. John was there too, off and on, even though he wasn’t sure he was welcome.

He found he simply couldn’t make himself stay away, and Carson, at least, seemed to understand. He kept John updated on Zelenka’s condition when he came to visit and sometimes brought John coffee when he brought it for McKay. John would stand at the back of the room, alone with McKay and Zelenka and his coffee, and his thoughts. He found it just as painful to see the Czech engineer, still and pale and unnaturally quiet on the bed, as it was to see McKay, hunched and miserable and just as unnaturally silent, clutching at his mate’s hand as though it were as vital as the IV lines supporting him. John found himself wishing he had even that much to contribute.

Prodded into possibly insensible action by his gnawing sense of helplessness, John finally found himself stepping over to McKay late one evening, and laying a hand on his shoulder, as though he could somehow add to whatever McKay was pouring into his mate through their joined hands. When McKay turned back to look at him, John half expected the same hostile glare he’d been getting for the past few weeks, but there was a haunted sort of gratitude in the man’s eyes instead. It made John’s heart ache, though he couldn’t say why.

As certain as Carson continued to be that Zelenka was recovering, he was unable to give either of them any idea of exactly when he would wake. All John could do was to keep checking as he managed his other daily tasks around the city. It was late evening on the second day when John stepped into the infirmary and heard voices speaking quietly in the room where Zelenka lay.

He told himself that he lingered only to be sure that it was Zelenka’s voice that he was hearing, and that all was well with Atlantis’ chief engineer, and refused to look deeper, though he knew that his true reasons were more personal and much less comfortable to contemplate.

“I knew it would hurt you,” was the first thing he clearly heard Zelenka say, “going to Dr Wier as I did, but I did not even try to find another way, I was so angry and frightened for you. It was done badly, and I am so very sorry for that.”

“I didn’t really leave you very many alternatives, now did I?” Even subdued as it was, John could not miss the bitter reproach in McKay’s voice. “And I had a pretty good idea that you were right by then, but it wasn’t about what was right any more, it was about pride, my pride... and I have no excuse... none at all...”

“Hush now, miláčku,” John felt something hollow within him at the sound of Zelenka’s voice, pitched to such gentleness and affection. “I love your pride. It is only one of many things I love in you, you know.”

When he heard nothing more from McKay save for a muffled sob, John made himself turn and go. He had no business here, was no part of this. He went for a run instead, letting his thoughts dwell only on his footfalls and rhythmic breaths. He would not think about the hollow feeling, nor how very much it was like loneliness... or like longing.

*

John struggled to deny that loneliness in the weeks that followed, and to deny the nearly debilitating relief he felt when McKay came to join him at lunch, a few days after Zelenka’s recovery. Thankfully, neither one of them felt the need to hash over what had come between them, save for a brief look of awkward apology from McKay, and an answering smirk and shrug from Sheppard, eyes downcast. Feeling a bit of that loneliness depart should have made it easier to ignore, John thought, but it seemed that the opposite was true.

This was all the more infuriating, because it had seemed to John that he’d had this loneliness business licked a long time ago. He’d walked away from his clan more than twenty years ago, for fuck sake, and he’d found it simple enough to bury his sense of isolation in the initiatory experience of basic training. He’d been alone since then, and his life was certainly full enough here to distract him from any such feelings. Still, if John did not directly ask himself why this long forgotten issue was asserting itself now, it was probably because he knew he wasn’t going to like the answer.

The answer glared right at him every time he saw his teammate bid farewell to his mate before a mission, with a brief embrace and kiss. It smacked him in the face every time he considered what it meant that McKay was willing to go off world with him, and that Zelenka was willing to trust him with his mate’s life. It was stabbing him through the heart, now, John thought as he struggled against the restraints he’d told Beckett to place him in, and _wanted_ with an intensity that he had not known since adolescence.

There are reasons that vampires tend to self segregate in modern society, and one of them is the ‘hunger fevers’ that nearly all adolescent vampires are subject to. The affliction made attendance in public school problematic during that time, necessitating some kind of home schooling, which less well off vampires tended to do with neighborhood groups. More well off vampires, such as John’s parents, provided private tutors for their offspring from the start, and the indignities of vampire puberty could be handled privately. Even so, John had loathed that time.

The loss of control infuriated and frightened him, and his father’s ‘support’ had sickened him. The first night John had woken with a powerful and inexplicable hunger for blood, and found that he could not hide his Aspect, no matter how hard he tried, he had locked himself in his room and refused to come out. His parents had known, of course, exactly what was happening, but instead of leaving him alone till it passed, his father had come with a woman, a ‘feeder whore’ -though John’s father had insisted that she was merely a ‘family friend’ who was happy to do John a ‘favor’.

The most horrible part of that incident hadn’t been that John’s father had brought her to him, but that after he had forced the door open and shoved her inside, that John had fallen on her like an animal, and would likely have drained her dry if his father hadn’t torn them apart. “You tell me, the next time,” he’d said as he’d carried her off. “Don’t let it get so bad.” John had told him nothing.

The fever had come on him four more times. Twice he’d gone out in the dead of night and fed from his own horse, the animal’s placid, mindless acceptance of whatever he was doing to it less disturbing than the woman’s sick thrill at nearly being bled to death. Once he’d snuck into the family’s private clinic and stolen a bag of the blood they kept there for emergencies (he knew his father would figure it out quickly enough, but wouldn’t say anything), and the last time he’d hidden in his room and sweated it out alone.

It had only taken John a minute or two to figure out why he had woken in his quarters, helplessly hungry for blood, with his Aspect asserting itself fully and unable to control any of it. The injury that deranged wraith girl had given him the day before still throbbed, and had not healed as it should have. He knew she had poisoned him, but he had no idea how the damage might be undone. Unhappily, Beckett didn’t seem to know either.

The centaur had done everything in his power to give John the support he needed, and the secrecy, starting with coming to his quarters with a large hooded robe, and to discretely hustle him into an isolation ward in the infirmary. Carson had honored his request not to let anyone see him, especially not McKay or Zelenka, for he knew he’d never be able to control himself in front of them.

The doctor had told everyone the truth about what had caused his condition but, as a reason why he couldn’t have any visitors, told them that the retrovirus had caused John to become super sensitive to sensory stimulus. John had thought the cover story a good one, but had, once again, forgotten to factor in the brilliance of the people he worked with.

“I’ve got Major Lorne just outside, and he’s rather insisting that he be let in,” Carson told him after he’d been in isolation for about three days. John had hoped that the poison would work it’s way through his system and let him return to normal after a time, but it didn’t seem to be working that way. 

“It’s a retro-virus, not a poison,” Carson had reminded him repeatedly. “The longer it goes unchecked, the more changes it works on your entire body.” John could feel the changes too, fingernails transforming into claws, all his teeth becoming pointed fangs, and he could feel himself becoming stronger. He had not told this to Carson, but he would likely be able to break out of the restraints in another couple of days, and his periods of lucidity were growing fewer and farther apart. He wasn’t telling Carson how terrified he was about that either.

He was lucid at the moment, for what that was worth, but he could still not think of why Lorne, of all people would be insisting on seeing him now. “Tell him no,” John said automatically. “Tell him to go away.”

“Actually, John,” Beckett said seriously, “I’d like to suggest that you see him. He came to me a little earlier, asking some fairly intelligent questions, and seeing as he’s already privy to certain information, I’ve given him true answers.”

He should have known that cover story would never fool some people, John sighed to himself. “No!” he snapped, fury and helpless frustration skating over his terror. “Carson, you can’t let him do this!”

“John, listen to me,” Carson crouched by the side of his bed and John could see the real worry in his eyes. “I’ve always taken my medical oath seriously and you know that. I’d never sanction anything that would cause harm to any of my patients. Right now any treatment I might have for you is weeks away at best and by then... John, by then there might not be enough of you left to bring back. I know there’s things you’ve not been telling me, lad, but the time for denial is past.”

“Fuck you,” John whispered, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“I’m sorry lad,” Carson said as he rose. “I won’t force you to anything, but I am letting him in to talk to you, and whatever you agree on I’ll assist.”

John said nothing, only turned his head away and remained thus as he heard Carson’s hooves retreat and Lorne’s human footsteps approach his bed. “Sir,” he said, a simple acknowledgement of their respective positions which John could not help but appreciate.

“Major,” he replied, head still turned away.

“With respect, sir,” he said after a moment, “but I’ve seen it before.”

“No you haven’t,” John said, and then gave up, because really, he wasn’t twelve, and turned to face his XO. John honestly had expected him to flinch at the sight of John’s hideously changed visage, and possibly step back from the bed, but Lorne, it seemed, was made of sterner stuff. He only nodded briefly, then sat in the chair at his bedside.

“Point taken,” Lorne said, settling himself.

“All right,” John said after a moment, “let’s hear your pitch.”

Lorne nodded again. “Sir, I asked the doc if we could do this by medical transfusion or donation, he said no. Skye explained to me that fae blood has… unpredictable effects on vampires, so I asked if there were too many fae elements in my blood, and he said no to that too. There’s no medical reason I can’t give you what you probably need, and a big fucking stack of reasons the expedition can’t afford to lose you. Sir.” Lorne grimaced and crossed his arms. “That’s my pitch, sir. It’s my brother-in-law who sells used cars, not me.”

John could not help giving a short laugh, and it revealed all his elongated and pointed teeth, but Lorne just raised his eyebrows. The gesture made John intensely grateful for a moment, not just for Lorne, but for all the truly fine people he had working for him here, and reminded him again that more than a few might be counted as somewhat more than mere coworkers. As for counter arguments, John had none. Lorne had made his point, if not eloquently, then fairly irrefutably. There was really no reason to drag this out any longer.

“You only get to do this for me once, Major,” he said with a sigh. “There’s absolutely no exceptions to that rule.”

“Understood, sir,” Lorne replied, blessedly all business as he started to roll his sleeve up.

John felt something animal waking within him again, as it felt him acquiesce, anticipating the feeding.

“I’m… I’m a little fucked up right now, Major,” he said, watching the bare flesh of Lorne’s arm slowly being revealed, with it’s pulsing vein of life lying just below the warm skin, “so it’s… it’s not going to be pretty. Carson, I may need you to… stop me, if I don’t…”

“Understood, Colonel,” Beckett said, all business. “There’ll be no harm done in this room, you can rest assured.”

John couldn’t really make himself feel assured about anything, but things were moving ahead, regardless and the moment he was aware of the hot blood pulsing within the arm held before him he was gone. He had a fleeting impression of the flesh giving way beneath his teeth, the burning tang of blood on his tongue, and then everything seemed to fade in a wash of savage hunger and satiation. He remembered thinking that if he killed Lorne, he would never be safe near any plant, ever again, and then it seemed like something ignited inside him, and then he remembered nothing.

Later, he would recollect flashes of Carson’s remarkably strong hands on him, holding him down as he convulsed on the bed, the true vampire, woken by his feeding, fighting the creature within that the retrovirus had been transforming him into. He would remember time passing in a feverish, half awake sort of way, and that as time passed, feeling more and more of his proper self slowly reasserting itself. He was happy not to remember most of it, and gladder still that no one else had seen it.

When he next woke properly, it was to see Dr Weir sitting at his bedside, which was surprising, but also a sure sign that he had things back under control again. He knew without question that Beckett would never have allowed her in if his vampyric aspect had still been showing.

“Welcome back, John,” she said warmly when she saw he was awake. John felt the warmth, and heard the sincere relief in her voice, and was a little surprised to feel how much it touched him, how much it meant to him that she’d been worried, and how good it was to know that she wasn’t worried any more.

“Good to be back,” he said, meaning it, and Elizabeth’s smile went from warm to beaming. She excused herself briefly with a touch to his arm to go get Beckett, and they both returned a moment later. Elizabeth remained standing off to the side while the doctor looked him over. It only took a few minutes, and he seemed altogether satisfied at what he saw.

“I’ve sent for a light meal from the mess and if that goes down well I’ll send you off home,” he said with a pat to John’s shoulder. The meal, a sandwich, fruit cup and bottle of water, came a moment later and Elizabeth sat by his side, updating him, as he ate, on the city affairs he’d missed while he was out of it. She paused when she’d finished her briefing, and then carefully changed the topic.

“John,” she said, “I could tell that there were things Carson wasn’t telling me when he explained about... what was happening to you, and I know that, as your doctor, there would naturally be some things that he was privy to that are not for public consumption. I would never question that, or pry into things that aren’t any of my business. I wanted you to know that -that I would never pry, but also...”

Elizabeth paused again, clearly considering her words carefully. “Whatever it is,” she began finally, “there isn’t anything that I might learn about you in the future that’s going to change what I think of you, or your position here. You have my unequivocal promise on that, John. What’s important about who you are, you’ve demonstrated amply enough for me. It should be enough for anybody, in my opinion, but what’s most important, is that you’re... you’re family, John. I’m... not sure that you knew that, but I wanted to be sure that you did, because it’s important.”

John let the words hang in silence for a long moment, no idea of what to say in reply. Eventually he’d managed some kind of thanks, but when he realized that Elizabeth had left, John wasn’t sure he could remember what he had actually said. He was, after all, still recovering somewhat from almost being turned into some kind of giant vampire-bug, and Elizabeth’s pronouncement frankly left him a little gobsmacked. It must have shown on his face when Carson returned a moment later to take his dishes and do one last check.

“You really had no idea, did you?” the centaur asked.

“I know you wouldn’t have told her,” John said, still trying to work out what it all meant, “but she suspects, doesn’t she?”

“She may,” Carson said, helping him up. “She’s not exactly an idiot, you know.”

“No,” John said, reaching up to scratch the back of his head. “Most people here aren’t... and I can’t help feeling a little paranoid about that.”

Carson nodded, and John was relieved to see that the doctor didn’t dismiss his concerns outright. “It’s understandable that you might be,” he said, “and I know it’ll take time to get used to, but she’s right. You’re among more than friends here, you’re among family, John, and I hope that with time, you’ll see that.”

John bid the doctor farewell then and, walking back to his quarters, wondered what it would feel like, to know he had family, like a family was supposed to be. Real family, he had always thought, meant people that you could trust, who would stand by you, and who you could count on, no matter what. John had never really felt that way about his natural family -not since he’d been a child, anyway. It had been too easy to leave them behind, to change his name and disavow his clan, and he had inevitably come to wonder, over time, just why it had been so easy.

The conclusion he had eventually come to was that either he’d had unrealistic expectations about what a family was, or that some part of him that should have held some natural loyalty or feeling for his kin was deficient. Either conclusion made it easy to keep himself apart, then, and to keep others at a distance. His only failing in that regard had been with the crew he’d gone back for in Afghanistan, which had resulted in his black mark. 

That whole hideous fiasco had reinforced for him the importance of keeping his distance, and not getting too attached. If he wanted family, he should have kept the one he was given to start with, and having rejected that one, he was not entitled to any others. Carson and Elizabeth, without knowing any other details of his life, seemed to wish to refute this conclusion, and John wasn’t quite sure what to make of that.

It was at breakfast the next morning, when his team came to join him, all smiles and comfortable, cordial jesting, that John Sheppard found that he had to admit to one point. This family meant more to him than his ‘natural’ family ever had, and if he had felt one tenth for them as he felt for the good friends and team mates who sat with him now, he would never have left them, would still be John Ransome Grayling, heir to one of the most powerful vampire clans of the eastern US.

If he’d felt for his family half of what he felt for his team, he’d have even given up the chance to fly to stay with them. John knew he would give up the sky for any one of his teammates, without question. He would give up his life without hesitation, and had nearly done so at least once.

Interestingly, John found that he got the same answer when he flipped the equation around too. He knew that Teyla, Ronon, and even McKay would do anything for him, make any sacrifice, stand with him against any foe. He knew this because they had already done so, in spite of any number of failings on his part. They did not see these failings, and even McKay, who knew things that the others did not, had demonstrated his trust time and time again.

All this meant that John had really ought to rethink his earlier conclusions about why it had been so easy to distance himself from his first ‘family’, but that was more than he wanted to face for now. There were degrees of distance, but John had a feeling that if he thought to allow only a limited decrease in that distance, or if he thought he would be able to control who he let closer and who he did not, he would soon find himself mistaken.

The first step he took in that direction would be a step off a cliff, there was no mistaking that reality. What lay at the bottom of that cliff, among other things, were the feelings he had for two men he had no business wanting, for a multitude of reasons. His time contesting with the retro-virus had stripped away the last vestiges of denial John had been protecting himself with on that issue. He found himself having to avert his eyes when Zelenka came to join them at the breakfast table, greeting Rodney with a cursory buss, and when he did, John hated that goddamned retro-virus, and himself, just a little more.

So now he had to face the reality that the cliff under his feet was crumbling, and pretty soon the decision of whether to take that step or not would be moot. For now, he would pretend, because he could do that, and because the crisis wasn’t quite upon him yet. And yet, there were moments when John began to see a new possibility, that his landing might not be as hard as he feared.

A few days later, heading back to his quarters for the evening by one of the more frequently used transporters, John found himself treated, as the doors opened, to the sight of Lorne and Parrish, lips and hands joined in a moment of what seemed more tender affection than lustful passion. It was sweet, even if it did make John’s heart ache just a little. They broke apart immediately as soon as they saw him, Lorne blushing furiously.

“Colonel,” he said, straightening awkwardly.

“As you were, Major,” Sheppard said with a smirk.

“Yes sir,” Lorne said, hurriedly exiting the transporter with Parrish. “Have a good evening sir.”

John stepped into the transporter as the two disappeared down the corridor, but delayed selecting a destination as he heard Parrish’s voice, hushed, but not too quiet for him to hear.

“Sorry, Even,” the botanist said. “That was stupid; I shouldn’t have...”

“Nah, don’t sweat it,” Lorne’s voice intervened. “He’s family.”

John mused over the sudden warm feeling the words engendered in his heart all the way home and into sleep. He wasn’t sure he understood it, but he found that he liked it, a great deal.

***


	7. Tale the Sixth: Chains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A former teammate gone 'darkside' knows things about how to control Fae folk that most Pegasus natives do not, and this proves to be very bad for Radek, and, surprisingly, for Ronon. The situation forces McKay to desperate actions, and Sheppard to do something he swore he would not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers: Season 2, mostly "Lost Boys" and “The Hive”

**_Tale the Sixth: Chains_ **

Rodney McKay had a list. He thought of it as something like the Ferengi ‘Rules of Acquisition’, but he was calling his, ‘Rules for Survival in the Pegasus Galaxy.’ He was going to add, “Waking up with a bag over your head is never a good thing,” as soon as he got back. It would be number 683, he thought, or maybe 684. 

One of the many reasons that this was so very true, was that this bag had clearly last held some sort of rotting produce. Rodney was absolutely sure of this, and nearly as sure that it had left some sort of undoubtedly lethal mold spores in the fibers which even now were making their deadly way into his sinuses... He sneezed.

He was immediately sorry about this, as it was one of the rules he had set down early on, possibly as early as number sixty or seventy, that if you are waking up in hostile hands, it is best to let them think you are still unconscious for as long as possible. Rodney didn’t know if their captors would believe that someone could sneeze without being awake, but he remained still where he lay anyhow, just to be on the safe side. Radek, however, had apparently not read Rodney’s rules, or if he had, had decided to disregard them.

“Rodney?” he heard his mate inquire softly from somewhere nearby, his voice sounding somewhat pained to Rodney’s ears.

Rodney struggled for a moment between annoyance that Radek had possibly alerted their captors to their wakefulness, and relief at knowing that he seemed alive and mostly well. His conflicted thoughts were interrupted by the intrusion of an unfamiliar voice ordering them to silence, and then there were the sound of others in the room and Rodney found himself being lifted, by at least two of their captors, and propelled forcibly out of this room and into another.

Desperate to know more about their situation, Rodney focused all his attention on what he could hear, and besides a few passing groans and scuffing feet, he also thought he heard the clink and rattle of chains, though he himself was not wearing any. His hands were secured behind his back -it felt like some sort of leather thong had been used- but his feet were unfettered, and Rodney wracked his brains to figure out why at least one of them seemed to be bound differently. He felt a sinking sense of dismay when he came upon the inevitable answer.

It had to be for Radek, because they knew what he was, and how to control him, and that idea was downright dismaying, because there couldn’t be very many people in the Pegasus galaxy who knew that. Fae folk were all but unknown here, and it was generally speculated that the Wraith were the reason, but as a result there would be few if any Pegasus natives that would know that ‘cold steel’ as the Fae termed it, or nearly any ferrous metal could be used to control and even torture Fae folk.

If Radek had been bound in this manner, it could only be by someone who knew he was a Wolf, and knew that it would prevent him from taking his wolf form. Having worked that much out, Rodney should not really have been surprised when, shortly after they’d been seated, and the sacks removed from over their heads, Aiden Ford appeared to introduce them to the rest of their captors.

Certainly the man was nuts, Rodney mused as Ford rambled on with his introductions, if he thought he could get away with kidnapping Atlantis’ premier team, whatever his stated reason. In the mean time, however, the food in front of Rodney smelled pretty good, and he figured that his blood sugar could probably use a boost about now. He’d already taken a couple of bits when he heard Radek, sitting beside him, make a gagging sound.

“This food has been poisoned,” he stated, glaring accusingly in Ford’s direction.

“What!?” Rodney exclaimed, his mouth still full. Around the table his teammates all looked up from their plates, and Ronon spit out the food that had been in his mouth.

“It tastes of Wraith,” Radek elucidated further, causing Rodney to spit out everything he had been eating and gag. Surely he didn’t mean the meat...

“He’s right,” Ronon confirmed and Rodney clapped a hand over his mouth, feeling his gorge rise.

“Ford?” Sheppard questioned darkly.

“It’s not poisoned,” Ford insisted, sounding a little petulant. “Its just Wraith enzyme. My man Jace here figured out how to put it in food, so you could see how great it works. We’re all on it, and we’ve been kicking the Wraith’s ass with impunity ever since.”

”You drugged us?!” Rodney had endured a wide variety of types of abuse over the last couple of years, but this was a first, and his outrage knew no bounds.

“I cannot eat this,” Radek declared deliberately. “Every part of Wraith is poison to me.”

”Then don’t eat,” Ford said crossly. “I wasn’t exactly figuring on your coming along in the first place, doc.”

”Yet another truly bad judgement call, Ford,” Rodney snapped furiously. “Is there any part of this so-called plan of yours that isn’t a stellar display of just how _insane_ you are?”

Rodney knew he should be used, by now to getting backhanded by captors whenever he couldn’t stop himself mouthing off, but he was ready, as much as he could be, for the result. His captors, on the other hand, were more than a little surprised at how fast Radek moved, and how quickly he managed to get his hands around the throat of the man who had struck Rodney.

”Kanayo!” Ford shouted, just as Sheppard shouted, “Zelenka!” and there was a moment of violent confusion as Ford’s men tried to pull the two combatants off each other. Then Rodney felt the cold press of a gun barrel against his forehead, and things got very quiet, very suddenly.

”That’s enough,” Ford said, his weapon frighteningly steady, and his voice hard and cold. Radek looked up to meet Rodney’s wide, frightened eyes with his own, livid with helpless rage such as Rodney had never seen in them before. He had seen it in the wolf’s eyes, when Kolya’s men had been torturing him, and Rodney knew that the moment those shackles came off his lover, Ford and his compatriots were dead men. He wondered if Ford had the sense to know it too.

Slowly, Radek returned to his place at the table, shaking with fury, to stare mutely at the plate of tainted food, and Ford lowered his weapon. Then, when everyone had returned to their seats, Ford went on with his explanation as though nothing had happened. Rodney wanted more than anything to reach across and take Radek’s hand, but he knew too many reasons why it would be a bad idea.

Instead, he sat, exchanging silent, frustrated glances with Radek as Ford finished monologuing and Sheppard went with him to try and talk some sense into him in private, in spite of how futile Rodney was sure it would be. They were left to their own devices after that, and when Sheppard reappeared to confirm Rodney’s suspicion, the five of them walked down to the gate to double check Ford’s assertion that he had rendered it inoperable. Rodney and Radek were able to confirm the truth of this after only a few minutes.

“No, it’s useless,” he scowled angrily. “He’s taken all the control crystals, not just the main one. Not even we can jury rig a workaround for that. We’re fucked.”

If Sheppard looked to Radek for confirmation, Rodney knew it wasn’t because he didn’t trust Rodney’s word alone, but because he was looking for any thread of hope. Unfortunately, neither of them had one to offer him. By the time they returned to Ford’s hideaway, Radek was in agony from walking in manacles the whole way to the gate and back, though he was trying (badly) to hide it. Rodney found the room where they’d evidently been kept while unconscious, and there were some vaguely mattress like pads scattered about on the floor. He settled there together with Radek, huddled in a miserable embrace, until Sheppard came in and told them that Ford was taking he and Teyla and Ronon on some ‘mission’ off world, and that he and Zelenka were expected to let Jace take them on a tour of the ‘facilities’.

He was highly inclined to tell Jace to fuck off when he came around, but then reminded himself that knowledge is power, especially when it can be classified as ‘intel.’ Radek seemed to concur and levered himself painfully up to join them. In truth, there was much of interest to be learned in the ‘lab’ Jace had set up, almost enough to distract them from worry about Sheppard and the others. Still, Rodney saw the profound relief in Radek’s eyes, mirrored in his own heart, when their teammates returned.

It was a strange thing, but Rodney had gotten used to the idea that Radek worried about Sheppard as much as he did. The reasons why were fairly obvious, yet the fact remained that their heritage, according to some, ought to have negated whatever causes they had to respect and even care for each other. Still, it did not make things any easier when Sheppard explained to them what little he had learned about what Ford had in mind.

“Can you say 'delusions of grandeur'?” Rodney snarked as they discussed the situation after dinner that evening. “He's just as whacked out as he was on Atlantis, only now he's got an entourage.” It had been as uncomfortable a meal as Rodney had ever had, with Radek refusing the food outright, and he and the others eating reluctantly, only after Ford had promised that the enzyme would be delivered by injection of they did not.

Ronon, Rodney observed, looked downright bilious by the time he had eaten half his food, and one of Ford’s men caught Sheppard trying to stash a piece of (untainted) bread from his own plate, to give to Radek later. The attempt earned him a dark look and promise of sever consequences if any further attempts were made, but the narrow eyed look Sheppard gave in return told Rodney that he would try again, only more carefully.

They were all escorted out to where Ford had a Wraith dart hidden the next morning, and Rodney and Radek were pressed into service repairing it. Rodney’s protestations that the thing was irreparable fell on deaf ears, but this was nothing unexpected, and it was made crystal clear to all of them that if the two scientists were, in fact, unable to prove themselves useful, they would meet the fate of all useless things in the Pegasus Galaxy.

Privately, Rodney was fairly certain that he could probably have even rendered the thing space-worthy on his own, but that didn’t make Ford’s plan any less insane, and it went against his nature to help a crazy man carry out a plan that would likely just get his friends killed. Unfortunately, he wasn’t given much of a choice in the matter. Instead, they went out every morning for the next three days, to spend the whole day working on the dart, with Radek becoming visibly weaker, and the pain from wearing leg irons growing steadily worse, every day. It made Rodney simmer with the same sort of helpless fury he had seen in Radek’s eyes that first day.

Sheppard was, in fact, successful at sneaking Radek a little food on a couple of occasions, though the effort probably carried more psychological benefit than nutritional. Rodney saw a familiar frustrated anger in Sheppard’s eyes as he watched Radek furtively consume whatever cold, unappetizing scraps he’d managed to smuggle. The open gratitude in Radek’s eyes, however, just seemed to make Sheppard uncomfortable.

It was the third day, however, that everything went from bad to worse. Around mid day, Ford turned up just in time to see that Rodney and Radek had actually gotten the dart to power up and hover a little, which gave him the idea that they were nearly done, and that now was the time to reveal the entirety of his plan to destroy a Wraith hive ship. It was just as insane as all of Ford’s other plans, of course, so naturally, Rodney got a little bent out of shape when Sheppard only made approving noises and agreed to go along with it.

“Rodney, just think about it for a second,” Sheppard said, having taken Rodney aside a few minutes later. “Ford needs me in the driver’s seat. All I have to do is convince him that I want all four of you with me, then I get you all inside the dart and dial the gate for Atlantis. Problems solved.”

“Yes, that would work splendidly,” Rodney snarked, “if only the enzyme would suddenly start making Ford stupider, and less stubborn, but barring that little miracle, he is never going to agree to taking Zelenka along, and he’s probably not going to want me along either.”

“Rodney, I am not leaving the two of you behind,” Sheppard said vehemently.

“Yes, yes,” Rodney groused, rolling his eyes. “John Sheppard never leaves his people behind. I get that, but you’re not going to be given any choice in the matter, or rather, you’ll get a choice between grandstanding now and getting one or all of us shot, or going along with Ford until you have an actual opportunity to get away. Look, we’ll be fine, hanging out here with Ford’s second string players, secure in the knowledge that nothing will stop you turning over every rock in the Pegasus Galaxy until you find us and bring us home. We might even, dare I say it, rescue our own sorry asses.”

Sheppard looked as if he wished to argue the point, but also knew that it wasn’t an argument he was going to win, and he looked downright miserable about that. Instead he put on his game face and the two of them rejoined the others and made like John had convinced Rodney of something. Satisfied, Ford headed back to their base with Teyla for some ‘training’, and left them under the watchful gaze of Kanayo and a couple of Ford’s other men. Sheppard and Ronon, who Rodney noticed had been looking increasingly antsy lately, stayed behind to keep an eye on them.

It was when the two of them crawled back out from under the dart, about an hour later, to try firing it up once again, that Rodney noticed Radek swaying a bit on his feet and looking decidedly pale.

“Sakra,” he said softly, and then, “Rodney...” and then he collapsed.

“Radek!” Rodney cried, rushing to his lover’s side, muttering, “fuck, fuck, fuck...” under his breath until his shaking hands found Radek’s pulse, weak and rapid, but clearly present. Sheppard saw them and came running a moment later, just in time to see Radek’s eyes flutter open in response to Rodney gently patting his cheek.

“Cože?” Radek muttered blearily. “Co se stálo?”

“You...” Rodney drew a deep breath and willed his wildly beating heart to calm. “You... passed out, from manly hunger.”

“Sakra...” Radek replied, trying to push himself upright, and Rodney debated with himself for a second or two if he should tell Radek to lie down again, but finally acquiesced to his lover’s desire and helped him sit.

“Okay, we’re done for the day,” Rodney announced, as much for their captors benefit as Radek’s.

“You finish fixing the dart?” Kanayo asked.

“No,” Rodney snapped. “But Radek’s too weak to work any more and I’m not leaving him to walk back alone.”

Kanayo looked as if he wanted to argue about it for a moment, then just sighed. “Fine,” he said, then, “Where are the others? We’ll go back together.”

“I’m right here,” Sheppard said, raising his hand. “I think Ronon went to go, ah, answer a call of nature.” Rodney watched Kanayo scan the immediate area, but did not appear to spot Ronon.

“Look, we’re heading back now,” Rodney said impatiently. “You can catch up with us. It’s not like we’ll be making much speed.”

“Yes, go on then,” Kanayo said, trying to sound as though he was in charge, Rodney thought scornfully, but he had little attention for their captors. Arm around Radek’s shoulders, Rodney helped his lover make their slow and careful way back to Ford’s base, and by the time they arrived he had forgotten that Sheppard, Ronon and the others ought to have caught up with them.

This was mainly because he was entirely consumed with worry for Radek, who was moaning softly in pain by the time Rodney was able to carefully lower him onto one of the sleeping mats in their room. His worry quickly boiled over into fury, however, as he saw Ford appear in the doorway, leaning there with casual, bullying menace.

“How come you guys are back so early?” he asked, his question clearly implying that they ought to still be working.

“That would be because he’s too sick and _starved_ to work any more today,” Rodney replied acidly.

“And what about you?” Ford asked. “You’re fine.”

“He’s too sick to work, I don’t work either,” Rodney said. “That’s the deal.” Ford’s demeanor became slightly more menacing at Rodney’s proclamation.

“No,” he said with intentional condescension, “the deal is that if the two of you don’t work then I have no use for either of you.” The threat was unspoken, but unsubtle as well and Rodney’s temper snapped. He stood and stalked over to confront the man standing insolently in the doorway.

“You off us and no one fixes your dart,” he said, arms crossed over his chest. “No dart and your plan is DOA. You start feeding us food that’s fit to eat or you don’t get what you want. You get nothing!”

“Sorry, McKay,” Ford said coolly. “Can’t make any special exceptions. If you really cared about him, you shouldn’t have brought him along.”

“Fuck you! You drugged out little punk!” he spat, getting right in the man’s face. “You’re torturing him to death, and if he... if anything happens... I will fucking make you regret the day you were born.”

To his mild amazement, Rodney saw Ford actually shrink back just a bit, but then he covered his unease with a shrug, turning to go as if that had always been his intention. “Whatever, McKay,” he said. “I’ll send someone around with your dinner in an hour or so.” It was meant cruelly, Rodney knew, and he wanted to hurt Ford, right then, very much.

“Fucker,” he muttered, returning to sit at Radek’s side. Radek took his hand and squeezed it tight for a second, and the two of them sat in silence for a spell.

“Huh,” Rodney finally said after a while, “I wonder where Sheppard and Ronon went?”

As if in answer, there came just then some noise in the hallway outside -angry voices and, oddly, the clinking of chains. Then he heard Sheppard’s voice.

“Don’t you blame me for this,” he was saying, angry and frustrated. “I had no idea. You brought this on yourself, Ford. You’re in charge here, you make the calls; the responsibility is yours. That’s what being in charge means.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Ford’s voice was furious. “One of my men is dead, and your man killed him.”

“Yeah,” Sheppard’s tone was mocking. Was he trying to get Ford to kill him? “And if that’s the kind of judgement calls that guy usually made? You’re way better off without him.”

“Fuck you, Sheppard! If I didn’t need you...”

“But you do,” Sheppard sneered. “It’s all part of your ‘brilliant plan’.”

“Get them out of my sight!” Ford commanded now. “And lock them all up. We can’t trust any of them.”

A moment later, Sheppard, Ronon and then Teyla, were all propelled forcefully into the room, and the door slammed and locked behind them. Ronon, Rodney was surprised to observe, now wore iron manacles on his legs like Radek, though they were not chained together, and looked considerably worse for the wear. Also, he was only partially dressed. Sheppard was carrying his trousers.

“What the hell?” Rodney asked, noticing further, that there seemed to be blood in Ronon’s hair, and dried around his fingernails.

“One of Ford’s people got himself killed,” Sheppard said, sounding tired, but still helping Ronon get his pants on over the leg irons.

“What?” Rodney said, alarmed. “How? Was it Ronon...?”

Having gotten himself and Ronon settled, Sheppard returned to sit between them, frowning. “Not my story to tell,” he said at last, with a sidelong glance at Ronon.

Something in Sheppard’s tone reminded Rodney of the secret he kept for his team leader, and he nodded in reply, feeling Radek, sitting beside him, take his hand and squeeze it. Naturally, he understood too. Teyla, on the other hand, simply looked puzzled and Rodney felt a pang of guilt about the secrets she'd been shut out of.

Ronon himself had said not a word since he had been brought in, though there was a smoldering fury in his downcast eyes -more than usual, even. When Sheppard’s non-explanation was met only by understanding silence, however, he sighed and raised his eyes, sweeping his gaze over all of them, assessing.

“I’ll tell it,” he said at last. “No reason not to, now that Ford’s people know.” He was quiet for another little while before he spoke again, however.

“I’m... like Zelenka, in a way,” he said at last, and Rodney saw how Radek’s eyes widened in amazement as he lifted his head to hear this news.

“Not... the same animal,” Ronon went on to explain. “My... _wilding_ is another hunting animal... I don’t know how you’d call it.” Ronon glanced over to Sheppard, giving some sort of permission with his look.

“Something like a big cat,” Sheppard said. “Like a mountain lion, but... sort of a dark reddish brown color.”

“Fakt?” Rodney heard Radek murmur under his breath. Teyla too seemed astonished, gazing at Ronon with wide eyes.

"You..." she began, "you are a Shaper?" Ronon nodded somberly.

"This tale," Teyla went on, "I had never heard it till I made inquiries with our own Keeper of Tales, to ask if she had ever heard of any such as Radek, with the power to destroy Wraith, and she told me of the Shapers. She said that they could take the form of many different hunting creatures, and that their bite was poison to the Wraith." Teyla paused now, evidently recalling what she'd been told.

"She also said that their kind withdrew, long ago, for fear of the Wraith, and that they keep their existence, and the location of their world a closely guarded secret. It is why you have kept it secret from us, yes?"

There was no accusation in Teyla's voice, as far as Rodney could tell, only curiosity, and Ronon seemed to take no offense.

“I tried, but the, ah, enzyme they’ve been giving us,” Ronon explained, “makes it hard for me to... control it. Finally slipped up today.”

Rodney nodded, seeing that the rest of the tale sort of told itself, save for a few details. 

“How...” Radek asked, mind working on a similar tack to Rodney’s as was so often the case. “Just now, how were you finally captured?” Ronon only grimaced and glanced to Sheppard for an answer.

"Kanayo put a gun to my head,” he supplied matter-of-factly, though Rodney did not miss the tinge of bitterness in Sheppard’s voice.

"Ten vůl*,” Radek muttered darkly beside him.

"Speak of the devil,” Rodney added, as said _vůl_ appeared in the doorway with their food.

Naturally, he and another of Ford’s lackeys stayed to make sure everyone ate from their own plate but, sitting together on the floor, it was still considerably easier for Sheppard to palm bits of bread and meat from his stew and surreptitiously pass them to Radek. Rodney noticed something fierce in Sheppard’s eyes every time he got one past their guards, and wondered if Ford’s people realised how very dead they were.

Ronon, Rodney could see now, was practically gagging on every bite of food he ate, yet he managed to make his way through at least half of the stew on his plate. Radek mostly just pushed his around and handed back a nearly full plate when everyone else had finished.

”Děkuji moc, ty mrdno,” Radek said pleasantly as Kanayo took his dish. Rodney laughed as they left, locking the door behind them.

”What did you call him?” Rodney asked.

”Fucker,” Radek said succinctly, which got a chuckle out of Sheppard, Teyla and Rodney, and even a hint of a wry smile from Ronon.

”How can you even eat a bit of their poison food?” Radek asked him. “Even the smell makes me ill.” The Sateadan only shrugged.

”You don’t eat, you get weak,” he explained. “You get weak, your enemy wins. Every bit you manage to keep down keeps your strength up, lets you fight one more battle, kill one more of them. Learned that while I was running.”

"Did the wraith," Radek asked, "know... what you were? Is that why they made you a runner?"

"It's why they destroyed my world," Ronon answered bluntly. Rodney felt Radek's horror at this revelation as much as he felt his own, and the look on Teyla's face was stricken.

"How," she asked sorrowfully, "were you betrayed?"

"Still don't know," Ronon said. "Though I have my suspicions, and if I ever see Kell again..." He let the sentence hang, darkly. "I've sworn I will have the truth, one way or another."

"All... all your people, on Sateada," Sheppard said, "they were like you too?"

"One in ten, or so," Ronon replied, "had the wilding. It would show itself around adolescence, and when it did you were taken and trained to fight, and defend our world."

"Because you could hurt the wraith," Radek said, "like me." Ronon nodded.

"And so they destroyed your whole world," Sheppard said, "and made you runners. Fuck."

"Couldn't you, you know, pretty much have them for breakfast -the ones chasing you when you were a runner- what with your, er 'wilding' thing?" Rodney asked, thinking it unusual for the Wraith to let anyone with any advantage over them live.

"Tracker had metal in it," Ronon answered him, "same as these." He indicated the manacles on his ankles. "Couldn't change."

"Do prdele," Radek swore softly. "For seven years? I do not know how you lived. I... I do not think I would."

"If you were the very last of your people?" Ronon asked. "I've seen the fire in your eyes Zelenka. You'd find a way."

Beside him, Rodney saw Radek swallow and reach across to gently touch Ronon's knee. "Můj bratře," he said softly. "You are not the last. Your... pack may be different, but you are not alone."

Ronon said nothing in reply, but Rodney thought he saw something in the Sateadan's eyes he had not seen there before. Not hope; not quite, but possibly something approaching it.  
Between one thing and another, no one had much energy for talk after that, and so they slept. By late the next day Rodney and Radek did actually manage to render the dart space-worthy and marginally navigable. Sheppard made one last, futile attempt to talk Ford into taking Rodney and Radek with them, but Ford would have none of it. 

It was the next morning, as they were preparing to go, that Ford revealed how Jace had locked the dart's DHD so that it would only dial the space gate Ford had selected, and Rodney felt his heart sink. He was there with Radek to go over the dart one last time, and brief Sheppard on the English Language interface he'd rigged in the cockpit.

"Doesn't matter," Sheppard muttered angrily to Rodney as he settled in. "You and Radek sit tight here, and we'll come back for you, one way or another."

"Right," Rodney muttered in return, not sure if he sounded more sarcastic or fatalistic.

"Just," he said uselessly, "try not to get killed. Anything else we can fix... somehow." Now he was afraid he just sounded miserable, which didn't really offer much as a display of confidence.

The two men who would be staying behind with Rodney and Radek now herded them back, away from the dart and the rest of the group clustered together to await the dart's culling beam. Ford coolly placed his gun against Teyla's temple and ordered Ronon's leg irons to be removed, and they stood like that until Sheppard closed the canopy on the dart, took off, and beamed the group up.

Rodney and Radek gazed unhappily after the dart as it disappeared in the distance, until one of Ford's second string goons gave him a shove and demanded that they return to the base. That night when they came with the obligatory wraith enzyme dosed stew Radek threw it back in the man's face and after that they stopped bringing him food altogether. The next few days passed in a haze of hunger and misery.

Rodney could not say what was worse: knowing that Sheppard and their teammates _might_ appear at any moment, or watching Radek slowly succumb to to the torments of starvation and cold steel. Rodney's anxious anticipation of Sheppard's possible arrival was, of course, tempered by the possibility that one or all of his teammates might be dead, and more still by the awful possibility that they would not return at all. There were way too many ways Ford's half-baked mission plan could have gone wrong, and their whole escape plan hung entirely on Sheppard surviving to pilot the dart.

These worries plagued Rodney's imaginings, while right in front of his eyes he could see Radek declining, virtually hour by hour. There were hollows under his eyes now, and his whole face was starting to look gaunt, which seemed so terribly wrong to Rodney. Worse, though, was how he was now so weak that he could not leave the rude pallet on the floor, his sleep torn by ugly dreams during the night, and his days spent dozing and muttering in pain. It was the morning that Radek woke them both, crying out in pain, and feverishly tossing off his thin blanket, when Rodney saw what the legs irons were doing to Radek's flesh, that he was finally driven to insensibly desperate action.

Revealed where his trouser cuffs had been rucked up as he kicked in his sleep, the skin around Radek's leg irons was raw, red and swollen, weeping in places as though from severe burns. Rodney was immediately sickened at the sight, and then he was enraged.

"That's it," he muttered, throwing off his own blanket and lurching angrily to his feet. "Putting a stop to this right now."

Rodney was pretty sure that stopping to steady himself against the door frame, as a wave of low blood sugar induced dizziness came over him, did not lend the impression of determined decisiveness he would have preferred, but there was nothing to be done about that. He knew what he needed to do now, and he was through with waiting helplessly.

He heard Radek call his name, worriedly, as he staggered out of their room, but he knew that his lover would only try to talk him out of it, and so Rodney kept moving. He knew where Jace's lab was, where the cabinet containing the various bottles and vials of prepared wraith enzyme could be found. Neither Ford nor his goon squad had ever prevented Rodney from going there, thinking him so averse to the idea of taking the enzyme that he would never, ever do just what he was intending to do now.

Of course, what he was intending to do now was patently insane. Rodney was fully aware of that as he held the syringe containing a clearly unsafe dose of the enzyme and prepared to inject it into his own arm. For a moment he was paralyzed by a wave of terror and revulsion, then he thought of the sight of Radek's legs, of his lover's gaunt face and pained cries, and plunged the needle in.

**

Radek Zelenka did not want to die. He loved his life, and the thought of leaving it, of leaving his dearly beloved mate, filled him with sorrow, but he had begun to feel a certain inevitability about it the last day or so. This was not to say he was feeling at peace about the prospect, but more that he was too weak, and in too much pain to think clearly about what it meant -particularly what it would mean to Rodney. That all changed when he saw Rodney's face, finally getting a good look at what the leg irons had done to him, and heard the desperate determination in his voice.

He'd tried calling out to his mate, even as he realized that nothing was going to stop Rodney now, whatever desperate plan he had in mind. Knowing that, Radek tried to find the strength to push himself upright, for all the every move ached, to try as best as he might to prepare himself for whatever consequences came of Rodney's actions. Part of him was half convinced that he was about to face his end, and only wanted to face it at least partially upright, rather than huddled on the floor like a beaten dog. Needless to say, he was not at all prepared for what Rodney had actually done.

He could smell the... wrongness in his mate the second he appeared in the doorway, though it remained unclear as to why until Rodney knelt at his side and took hold of the cursed metal imprisoning his legs. Radek could not help wincing and letting go a little cry of pain when Rodney jostled the iron against his skin, but then, before Radek's astonished eyes, Rodney's hands were _tearing_ the hinges open, lifting the offending metal away and flinging it, with shocking strength, against the wall, so that it took a chunk out of the stone where it struck.

"Rodney..." Radek whispered, wide eyed. "What have you done...?"

"Desperate times, desperate measures," Rodney muttered as he tore away the second leg iron, and when he had finished Radek could see how Rodney's hands shook.

The relief of being freed from this unspeakable torment was yet another sort of agony, and for a moment Radek could only cling to his lover with desperate strength. Rodney clung back and Radek saw now that more than his hands were shaking. Rodney's voice shook too as he murmured into Radek's shoulder.

"Couldn't let it go on any longer," he said. "Couldn't... just couldn't..."

"Samozřejmě," Radek murmured back, for he could smell the enzyme in his mate now -more than a little. "Já vím... já rozumím... Co teď?"

Even as he asked Rodney 'what now?' Radek realized that, as wretched as he felt, he was probably the better one of the two of them to be making plans at this point. The surge of nearly painful relief was passing now and as it did Radek felt a measure of his strength returning. Give him another minute and he could probably stand again.

"Gotta get out of here," Rodney was muttering now. "Get the crystals, fix the DHD, find Sheppard..."

"Yes, yes," Radek replied. "Just... I need a moment."

"Right, right..." Rodney stood to pace the confines of their room, the uncontrolled, nervous energy rolling off him in waves. It could not be said that nervous pacing was unusual for his mate, but there was something wrong and forced about this, and Radek felt his worry intensify.

Spurred by his worry, Radek soon found the strength to stand, though he was far from back to his full strength, and he still ached all over. Together they made their way to the common room, where the remaining two of Ford's men sat at the table playing some game, and here Rodney instructed him to stay back. It felt... odd, to let Rodney confront these two men, and fight them, while Radek remained out of sight. It went against every one of his instincts, and it was no easy thing to hold back the wolf and not come running to his mate's rescue.

Rodney, however, clearly had the situation in hand, for all that his brief struggle with Ford's men had been... a trifle graceless. He accomplished what he needed to and a moment later he and Radek were on their way to the DHD. Radek took over the task of replacing the crystals, though it took a little convincing to get Rodney to relinquish them.

"No, really, I've got it," he tried to insist, until Radek caught hold of one of his hands to show him how badly it was shaking. Rodney tried to play it down, but he still handed over the crystals, for which Radek was profoundly grateful. Naturally, Rodney paced and kibitzed, somewhat incoherently while Radek worked, his words and gestures growing increasingly frantic as the time passed, and Radek tried hard not to think about how hard Rodney was going to crash when the enzyme wore off. It happened more quickly that Radek expected.

He had to all but drag Rodney through the gate when it finally activated, as Rodney kept insisting that there was something he still needed to check on the DHD. Arriving in Atlantis was a relief, but only a small one as Radek had to try to explain what had happened to Dr Weir as Rodney kept interrupting and Radek himself was starting to sway on his feet. Rodney's sudden collapse took him by surprise, and even as he turned to kneel at his mate's side Radek felt his vision start to grey out.

"Sakra..." he said, struggling to stay conscious, but to no avail. He heard Dr Weir calling his name, and for a medic, and then the floor seemed to rush up to meet him and he knew nothing.

**

Radek felt perfectly wretched when he woke up, but still immeasurably better than he had felt with steel manacles on his legs. He could feel the small intrusion of the IV line going into the back of his hand, and the quiet, steady beep of a heart monitor near by. Dr Weir was there as well, Radek saw when he opened his eyes, sitting beside his bed, reading and making notes on a tablet. She sensed his wakefulness soon enough, however, and set the tablet down to greet him.

"Rodney?" he asked before anything else, and she nodded toward another bed, not far from Radek's. The sound of the heart monitor emanated from there, and he could see Carson Beckett crouched down at the bedside. The doctor lifted his head at the sound of Radek's voice, and he pushed himself to his feet, slowly and a little stiffly, so that Radek wondered how long he had been sitting there.

"How are ye doing, lad?" he asked Radek.

"I have been better," he said honestly, "but I have also been considerably worse quite recently, and I can feel that I am recovering. But please, will you tell me how Rodney is?"

Carson nodded, giving a worried sigh. "Aye, you are definitely on the mend. It was cold iron on your legs then?" he asked. Radek nodded.

"Well, you had the start of a nasty infection going there, but now the iron's gone and you're making a good recovery. Rodney, on the other hand..." Carson paused, rubbing at his face tiredly and Radek felt his anxiety increase.

"I have to tell you, it's not good," the doctor said at last. "He was badly malnourished and hypoglycemic when he was dosed... did you say that he'd taken it himself?"

"Ano," Radek confirmed. "I was... in a very bad way. Sheppard and the others had gone and Rodney... he was desperate. He did what he had to, to free me and get us back home."

"Aye, that makes sense," Beckett said sadly. "Unfortunately, the size of the dose he took, and his condition at the time he took it, well it's all added up to create a very bad situation for him now. I've done what I can to bring his blood sugar up, and adjust his electrolytes, but beyond that there isn't much I can do. I haven't any more enzyme and the last of it left his system a little while ago. He hasn't regained consciousness since you returned and he... I'm sorry to have to tell you lad, but Rodney fell into a coma a few hours ago."

Radek nodded, bowing his head as he struggled with his deepening despair. "Please," he said, swallowing to steady his voice. "Please, may I... be with him?"

Carson's eyes reflected his sorrow. "I'd like to send for a little food," he said, "just some soup and a bit of bread, and if you do well with that then yes, I'll let you up to sit by his bed. He's not far."

Radek could not in his life recall ever being less interested in eating, for all that he had been starved for the last week, but when the food came he made himself eat. Carson nodded his approval to see him making the effort, for he had to have some idea of Radek's state of mind, and the moment Radek had finished Carson removed his IV and gave him permission to go sit at his mate's bedside.

"Miláčku," Radek murmured, pressing a kiss to Rodney's forehead before he sat. He did not stir. His mate lay, still as death, save for the slow rising and falling of his chest, with an IV supplying him with nutrients and medicines, a cannula supplying oxygen and sensors over his heart relaying it's every beat to the monitors beside his bed. So many indignities, Radek thought with a pang, and evidently to no end.

He could know the true state of his mate's condition by looking inward and reaching for the place in his mind where he could usually find their bond, but now there was nothing. Only a sort of white noise blankness could be found where his lover's lively mind should be -not even the blurred and confused impressions of deep sleep. Finding this nothingness where he had become accustomed to Rodney's presence was more agonizing than cold steel on his legs, Radek thought, and he'd trade the one for the other in a heartbeat, if he could.

He lost track of time, sitting at his mate's bedside, aware in a passing way of others moving around the infirmary. Carson came to check from time to time, on both of them, but nothing changed save for Radek gradually sinking deeper and deeper into despair. Wolves mate for life, and it was not uncommon that mates would die together -or one following shortly after the other, though that was usually after being together for decades. Even though he had been bonded for less than two years, Radek found himself wondering how he would be able to go on if he lost Rodney.

It was one thing to live one's whole life never knowing the closeness of a bonded mate; Radek had been entirely prepared to do that. To have known that closeness and to have lost it, however, Radek did not know how anyone could live thusly. Shifts changed in the infirmary and Radek was given more food which he ate without tasting. Eventually lights were dimmed and he was offered a cot that could be rolled up next to Rodney's, but Radek declined. He knew he would not sleep, so what would be the point?

Much later, alone in the dark of the night, Radek found tears on his face and did not fight them, only laying his glasses aside to weep silently over his love. He knew precisely what had driven his love to take the enzyme that was killing him now. If their positions had been reversed, Radek would have done the same, but it was all for nothing. Rodney would die and either he would follow, or go on to live a life so empty it did not bear contemplation. In all his life Radek had never known despair so profound.

It was in that grey, transitional time that, ironically, Radek had heard referred to as the 'Hour of the Wolf', when despair may especially reign supreme in a man's heart, that Radek's despairing solitude was unexpectedly interrupted. Like most other residents of Atlantis, Radek had long ago learned to recognise the low frequency rumble and shudder of the gate activating, even here, many levels below the gate room, and now it prodded him to alertness. He was not the only one, for soon Radek heard the clatter of hooves from Carson's office and he realized that (of course) the doctor had not retired to his quarters for the night -not tonight.

Radek was not proud to admit that he had, by now, long given up hope of ever hearing from Sheppard or the others, but his despair over his mate's situation had made any other hope seem untenable. Now, however, Radek found himself wondering if Sheppard's uncanny nack for surviving in the face of overwhelming odds had asserted itself again. He straightened in his chair, reaching for his glasses as he rubbed his eyes, and heard Carson and the night nurse prepare themselves for what might be needed. No call for medical assistance came, however.

Instead, there shortly came the sound of voices in the corridor, approaching the infirmary. One was Dr Weir's and the other...

"...do you mean, in a coma? How much did he take?" It was Sheppard, and the distress in his voice was plain to hear.

"We don't know, exactly," Radek heard Dr Weir answer. "But evidently it was quite a lot. He broke the manacles off Dr Zelenka's legs with his bare hands."

"When was this?" Teyla's voice spoke this question and Radek knew both elation and sorrow. Surely it was a miracle that any of them had survived to return home, but the news about Rodney would surely break their hearts.

"They came through the gate two days ago," Dr Weir answered. "Both badly malnourished. Dr Beckett thinks that's why Rodney was effected so seriously."

"Because of his, um, hypo whatever?" And that was Ronon. _Diky Bohu_ , they had all survived, Radek thought, and then they were all there, crowding into the next room where Carson awaited them. Ronon and Teyla remained there, letting the nurse on duty check them over, but Sheppard, of course, was not so tractable.

"Where is he?" the Colonel asked, even as he found his own way into the room where Radek sat beside his mate. Carson followed close after, but did not try to interfere as Sheppard made his way to Rodney's bed, standing beside Radek to look over his teammate's still form.

"God dammit, Rodney," Sheppard said, hands clenching into helpless fists at his sides. "Why...? Why couldn't you wait? We would have come for you."

"He couldn't wait," Radek said quietly. "I... I was dying." He swallowed hard, working to keep his voice steady. "And now he is... I cannot blame him; I would have done the same, as would you, I think, but what is the use?" Radek gestured sharply in helpless anger. "Do prdela! What is the use?"

Radek felt Sheppard's hand on his shoulder, gripping strong with shared sorrow, and then Carson was quietly urging the Colonel over to a nearby bed, to check him over as well. Sheppard's eyes never left Rodney's unmoving form as Carson checked his pulse and blood pressure, but before he finished Sheppard took hold of the doctor's arm, clutching at it briefly as he said, in a low voice, "Maybe you'd better take a little blood too."

"What?" Carson replied, confused. "But, why should I...?" Then he followed Sheppard's gaze.

"They say it's good against poisons," he murmured. "I have no idea if this... but you might as well..."

Understanding dawned in the doctor's eyes. "Aye, alright," he said softly. "D'ye know if it should be administered orally or...?" Sheppard shrugged.

"In his IV should be fine, as far as I know," Sheppard replied. "And you shouldn't need much."

Radek watched with rapt interest as Carson took a small measure of blood from Sheppard's arm and then, with a quick glance around to see that no one was watching, injected it into Rodney's IV line. Radek was in no way ready for hope -it was much to early for that- but there was something to watch now, something that might change. Looking up to meet Sheppard's eyes, Radek saw the same carefully tempered not-hope there as well... and then he felt something.

In the place where his bond should be there remained the same disordered nothingness as before, but for a moment there had been a change, a brief, patterned flicker in the static. Hope... hope was a dangerous thing, but Radek felt it sputter into life in his heart nonetheless. Rodney had not moved, but something had changed, Radek was sure of it.

Carson finished checking Sheppard and told him he could go back to his quarters if he wished, but Sheppard asked if he could stay and Carson agreed. Thus it was that Radek and Sheppard came to sit flanking his mate, one on either side. They remained as Teyla and Ronon came to visit, murmuring quiet encouragements before they departed, and as the sky grew lighter and the city began to stir.

Radek had no memory of how it was accomplished, though he was sure Sheppard had a hand in it, but some hours later Radek woke to realise that he had been sound asleep, and that he was lying in the cot beside Rodney's -the one he had refused earlier. He still had Rodney's hand in his, and Sheppard was still slumped in a chair on his other side, so that was all right, but the absence of any memory of his getting into that cot mystified him a bit. If Sheppard had carried him, Radek did not want to know.

When Radek reached, instinctively as he generally did upon waking, for his mate's presence in his mind, however, he found something both quite ordinary and wonderfully surprising. The empty 'static' sensation was gone, and in it's place was the usual murky, convoluted sea of ideas, thoughts and images that Radek recognised immediately as his mate's normal, sleeping mind. He drew a sudden breath, feeling a surge of relief and joy fill his heart.

Alerted by this smallest of sounds, Sheppard stirred, and Radek saw him lift his head, blinking sleepily. The moment Sheppard had enough focus to meet Radek's eyes, he saw what lay there and broad smile asserted itself on Sheppard's sleepy features.

"He is sleeping now," Radek said softly, marveling at the ordinary wonderfulness of it. "Just sleeping." It wasn't the depth of the quiet joy he saw on Sheppard's face now that surprised Radek, as the man took in the meaning of his words, but the fact that he had never seen it before. Had the man so little joy in his life, Radek wondered, and how could one know so little joy in one's life and still have such a good heart, as he now knew Sheppard to have.

Without thinking Radek slipped off of his cot, releasing Rodney's hand only a little reluctantly, and made his way to the other side of the bed where Sheppard sat. The look of surprise on Sheppard's face was a mirror of what Radek felt, considering his own actions, but his heart was too full to restrain himself. Sheppard's hand was in his, being lifted to his own lips, before he even knew what he was doing.

"To say, 'thank you'," he said, lowering Sheppard's hand, "it is not enough. It is not even close... but there is nothing else to say... except perhaps that you have saved my life as well, but I think you know this, too."

Sheppard could not seem to meet his eyes now, though he did retain his hold on Radek's hand a second or two longer than he might have. "Just returning a favor," he said with a shrug, "and, you know, doing my job... finally." Radek did not miss the bitter self-recrimination in the last word."

"I have always trusted you to protect him," Radek countered gently, "and I have never been disappointed." The tension in Sheppard's body told Radek more than the words he would not speak, and told him many things he had never before considered about the vampire who was his mate's friend and team leader. It would bear much thinking on, but later, as now Carson was here, alerted by their quiet conversation, to check on Rodney.

Carson Beckett was no touch healer, but he was a bit of a seer, as most centaurs tend to be, and Radek had always figured that the man was doing more than timing a heart rate when he took his patients' pulse. The doctor's look was introspective as he held Rodney's wrist in his hand, then pleased.

"The good news is, he's definitely out of his coma," Carson reported, "thanks, no doubt, to your... contribution, Colonel. He'll sleep for a while yet though, I imagine." Radek nodded. He could feel his mate's exhaustion, even in sleep, and guessed that he would not wake until late in the evening, at the earliest.

"That's good to hear, doc," Sheppard said, standing stiffly. "I think I'll go tell Teyla and Ronon and then go get a little sleep myself, in my own bed."

"Aye, that's a fine idea, Colonel," Carson replied, "and I'll let Dr Weir know as well." Sheppard flashed them both a warm smile and turned to go, but before he did Radek stepped forward to take his hand again.

"Colonel," he began and then hesitantly tried, "John... I don't... there are no words, but I feel..." and then Radek gave up and pulled Sheppard into a brief, awkward embrace. He returned the gesture stiffly, but Radek knew better than to think it was because he was a Wolf. John Sheppard kept everyone at a distance, Radek knew by now, and he understood why as well.

Sheppard shrugged when Radek stepped away, uncomfortable with praise as always. "Wasn't much, honestly," he said, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. "I just wish I'd been able to do more, earlier... for both of you."

"You did what you could," Radek answered, "as did we all."

Sheppard bid them farewell then and Radek returned to sleep on the cot next to Rodney's. Carson pushed them close together so that Radek could lay on his side, curled close to his mate with one arm flung over his body. When he did Rodney shifted in his sleep, instinctively moving closer and Radek knew then that everything really was going to be alright. Carson's smile as he turned off the light and closed the door to their room told him that he thought so too, and so Radek dropped off to sleep with an untroubled heart, for the first time in many days.

 

Rodney did wake, as Radek had anticipated, late that evening, in time for a late dinner. Carson seemed to have anticipated much the same, for he had sent for a dinner which arrived, delivered by Sheppard, naturally, at about the time they had both woken and were sitting up in their beds. As they ate Carson explained quietly to Rodney about Sheppard's contribution to his recovery. Sheppard had said little when Rodney thanked him, mouth full, of course, only shrugging in that typical way of his. Still, Radek did not miss the looks that passed between them, and knew that more had been said than was communicated with words.

Once dinner had been finished and another check had been made of both of them, Carson sent them home, "to rest," he instructed forcefully. Radek had no intention of doing otherwise, with the possible exception of certain rigorous activities that might be done in a bed.

The first order of business upon returning to their old quarters, however, was showering, as neither of them had done so since returning to Atlantis. They'd both been subjected to a cursory cleansing when they'd first been brought to the infirmary and changed into scrubs (thankfully both had been unconscious at the time), but a far more thorough washing was clearly wanted.

Scrubs abandoned carelessly on the bathroom floor, Radek and Rodney immersed themselves gratefully in the warm deluge, letting the water carry away the last external traces of their ordeal. Thinking he could still detect the faint scent of Wraith enzyme in the steamy air, Radek soon moved to apply soap to his lover's body, wanting to eliminate every trace of the noxious presence, and Rodney indulged him.

When the soap was rinsed away and Radek could no longer smell the unwanted taint, he took to tasting, mouthing and licking his lover's skin, at his throat and neck, then moving down to his shoulders and chest. He would have gone further still, but Rodney gently pushing him back so that he could reciprocate, to which Radek had no objections. Understanding his mate's needs to be equivalent to his own, Radek stood patiently as Rodney dropped to his knees to closely examine where the cold steel had lain against Radek's skin. Rodney's fingers caressed the healing flesh there, and what he found elicited a small, sorrowful sound.

"It's going to scar here," Rodney said sadly. "The bastard marked you." It was no easy thing to put a permanent scar on a Wolf, but cold steel would do it, Radek knew.

"It may fade," he offered by way of small comfort. "And until it does, it will never be a mark of his captivity, but of your freeing me, for he is gone, and you remain."

"You're mine," Rodney murmured heatedly, face pressed against Radek's thigh.

"I am," Radek agreed gently, fingers moving through Rodney's wet hair. "And though the cold steel may hurt me again, I will never fear it, for I know that you will always come to free me, even from such wretched bonds."

"I will," Rodney said, and now Radek heard the tears in his voice. "And I'll do what I have to, whatever I have to, to free you. No matter what."

No matter if it killed him, Radek knew, but he also knew it was no different for him, and so could not really object. "Hush, miláčku," he said instead. "Let me wash your hair, and then you can wash mine and then we can go to bed and remind each other of only pleasant things."

"Sounds like a plan," Rodney said, even as Radek was already working the shampoo into his hair. Such ablutions satisfied something the Wolf needed very much, for if Rodney had been a Wolf too, they would have spent hours grooming each other after such a misadventure. Given Rodney's contented humming as he returned the favor, Radek wondered if he did not also feel such urges, human or no.

There was further evidence of this as they finally made it to bed and at first only lay closed in each other's arms, touching and tasting each other reassuringly. Radek could feel his lover's contentedness echoing his own, and so rejoiced in being able to indulge himself in this manner. It was a great indulgence to immerse himself completely in his mate's clean, unpolluted scent, the taste and touch of his skin, and the warmth and strength of his body and, most wonderful of all, Rodney seemed to feel the same.

It was such a small thing, to move from tastes to kisses, that neither of them noticed at first. By the time they finally found each other's mouths, however, they were both hungry for more. Radek wanted to devour his mate, feeling the Wolf's imperatives singing in his blood and rejoicing in it.

"I need..." he said, voicing the Wolf's desires. "I want to mark you... need to mark you, let me..."

"Yes, fuck, yes," Rodney said from under him, grabbing at him with those strong capable hands, pulling him close and thrusting up against him.

Radek growled with satisfaction at his mate's consent and fastened his teeth into the skin at the base of Rodney's throat. Soon he could taste the bruise -the blood so close to the surface- and it made him hard -harder than he already was. He wasn't finished yet, though. Not at all.

Having placed one mark on his mate's neck, in a place where anyone could see it, he set to work making marks that would be for him alone. First he moved down Rodney's chest, sucking and tonguing his nipples, and enjoying the feel of the hard nub of flesh there. Then he moved his mouth to just above the left nipple and bit again, sucking hard to raise another bruise. Rodney moaned in response, his hands fisting in Radek's hair.

Radek growled again, and shook his head slightly, worrying at the bite and Rodney gasped, in pleasure as much as pain. Radek licked at the darkening mark when he was done, eliciting a whimper from his mate, then compelled even more delicious sounds by licking his nipple again. Radek grinned with all his teeth, then knelt back and pushed at Rodney's hips.

"Over," he commanded. "I want to mark your backside next." It pleased Radek immensely to think that no one who had ever met Rodney could ever possibly imagine how quickly the man would comply with an order to turn over and have his ass bitten. Of course, it was only because that order came from Radek, but this fact did not diminish Radek's satisfaction in the least.

In fact, he was so well pleased with his mate that Radek decided to reward him first, and so came to lick and nibble his way over that most perfect ass, making his way down, between the cheeks, to taste and scent what lay in the depths there. To his Wolf's sensibilities, this was a scent he wanted to revel in -all Rodney and free of any lingering taint of Wraith. He wanted to roll in it, to cover his own body in his mate's musky, earthy scent, and barring that possibility, he absorbed the taste and smell with his nose and mouth, and took equal pleasure in the sounds of his mate's pleasure.

Rodney actually gave a surprised shout when Radek pressed his tongue inside, entering into the tight heat of his mate's body. Rodney arched his back and thrust his hips helplessly into the bed, and called Radek any number of properly filthy names. Radek only growled happily to himself and did it again. He was happily fucking Rodney with his tongue, and not even beginning to get tired yet, when his mate's whimpers took on a slightly desperate edge.

"Fuck...fuck, Radek, gonna... gonna," he murmured. "Wait... please..."

"Hmm, yes, of course," Radek drew back, pausing to survey Rodney's shapely backside again. He made his choice quickly enough, finding a spot low on the left cheek to his satisfaction, and promptly sank his teeth in.

"Fuck!" Rodney shrieked, loudly enough to be heard all down the corridor, Radek was sure. He squirmed furiously as Radek bit down, sucking hard on the tender flesh. Radek pinned him in place, enjoying using his strength to master his lover. Rodney seemed to enjoy it to, for after a moment he ceased in his struggles and only lay moaning as Radek placed his final mark.

He sat back to look over his work when he was done, smiling to see it as much as to hear Rodney moaning, "Fuck, oh fuck, fuck, fuck..." into his pillow. Radek himself was rock hard, but the Wolf was well satisfied for now. The man wanted something else.

"Yes," Radek said, stretching out to lie beside his lover. "Yes, you will fuck me now. I want to come with you inside me, miláčku."

Rodney made a sort of incoherent sound in reply at first, but Radek waited patiently and a moment later his mate struggled up to kneel unsteadily over Radek.

"Ow," he said, uncomplainingly as the skin stretched on the bite on his ass. "You are an evil bastard, you know," he commented as Radek handed him the lube.

"I do know," Radek replied smugly, "but thank you for the compliment just the same." Radek knew that he would pay for his smugness shortly, but also that he would not be sorry.

Rodney made quick work of opening him, and Radek was more than ready for him. He was lifting his legs to hook his knees over Rodney's shoulders even as the man was pressing his cock into Radek's body. They moaned in unison at the joining. It was like coming home, Radek thought, and wonderfully, he felt a similar resonance in his mate.

Neither he nor Rodney, each used to being the smartest man in the room for most of their lives, would ever have thought of themselves as less than complete in any way. In spite of that, the sense of completion they both felt when they came together like this could not be denied. The whole is greater than the sum of its parts, Radek thought to himself, sensing the echo of this in his mate's thoughts as well. We are... reverberated between them, as the began to move together. _We are!_

We are... pleasure and penetrating and penetrated, filling and filled, thrusting and lifting and holding... holding on tight... and building, growing... Somewhere in the melee the Wolf and the fostered child of the Fae forgot who belonged to whom, and so Radek was taken completely by surprise to find Rodney biting him hard, just to the right of his right nipple. 

He swore in Czech and then he was coming, suddenly, furiously. He could feel himself clenching and spasming around Rodney's cock within him, and a heartbeat later Rodney was coming too. For a moment his teeth remained locked in Radek's flesh and the pain sharpened Radek's climax. Then Rodney relinquished him to cry out his ecstasy as he came and Radek could feel the hot pulses of his mate's spending within him even as his own release striped his chest.

When Rodney collapsed onto him, Radek felt a little unexpected thrill through their link, that Rodney welcomed the sticky remains of his mate's pleasure on his own body. "Mine," he mumbled into Radek's skin and Radek mumbled back, "Můj," and then huffed out a contented huff of laughter.

"See?" Rodney remarked a little later, having rolled off -and slipped out- of Radek and now gently probing the reddening mark on Radek's chest. "Two can play at the biting game."

"Do you see me complaining, miláčku?" Radek chuckled. "You do not. If it is your impression that this will somehow act as disincentive, then you are sadly mistaken."

Rodney gave an amused huff of laughter. "No, I guess I sort of knew that," he said, rolling onto his side to curl up against Radek. 

Radek nestled back against him and let himself drift, basking in afterglow and the warm presence of his mate. He was drifting comfortably and gradually toward sleep when he realized that there was, faintly, another presence with them. Recognizing it, and reflecting that it might now be a permanent fixture, pushed Radek back to wakefulness for a moment, and roused his mate as well.

"You... you can feel him too, can't you?" Rodney murmured into Radek's shoulder.

"It follows," Radek replied. "You have exchanged blood, and while Wolves are not, as a rule, known for their fondness for sharing, the alternatives... that he might have been lost to us, or that you might... neither bears contemplation."

"No," Rodney said thoughtfully. "And honestly, I don't think I really mind. I mean, it's Sheppard. He's... he's..."

"He is pack," Radek said quietly, though he thought that maybe he had never uttered such shocking words in all his life.

"Yeah, he is," Rodney replied, and then they felt silent for a moment, until Rodney said, "I had no idea he was so... alone."

Radek did not answer, for he'd guessed at this some time back, when he'd asked Sheppard about his clan, and Sheppard had told him how he'd walked away from all that, disowning his clan and changing his name. Sheppard was alone, and clanless, and yet he was also pack to him and Rodney, though he likely did not know it.

Part of Radek was moved to tell him, and part was loathe to share, to invite a vampire into his life in such an irrevocable way. And yet, what was truly irrevocable was already done, wasn't it, Radek considered. Sheppard might even figure it out for himself. He might, Radek owned, but the evidence suggested that, for all that Sheppard was no idiot, he was no more adept at picking up on these sorts of things than Rodney was.

Moreover, even if Sheppard had to know that his recent actions had forged a link with Rodney, he'd never guess that Radek was prepared to accept it, to accept him. So used was he to being condemned for what he was, Sheppard tended to assume that no one who knew his secret would want him close. In some ways, Radek reflected, letting him go on thinking this about the two of them was unkind at best and at worst, needlessly cruel.

So they really _should_ tell him, Radek was forced to the conclusion as he settled back towards sleep, but how and when, that would be no easy thing to decide. Thus, as often happens with difficult decisions, especially in an environment as fraught with urgent interruptions as Atlantis, Rodney and Radek found it much easier to set the question aside, for now, even as 'for now' got pushed further and further back.

Eventually, of course, the issue pushed itself to the forefront on its own, forcing all three of them into a decision that would change all their lives. Such is the price of procrastination.

***


	8. Tale the Seventh: Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is one gap remaining to be bridged between our three heroes, and when it is the consequences will entangle an unexpected third party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No spoilers this chapter, but Very Evol Cliffhanger at conclusion (which will be solved in next chapter, natch).

**Tale the Seventh: Consequences**

Ronon surged futilely against his chains as yet another scream could be heard from the sacrifice grounds, not far from the crude shack where they were all imprisoned -all except McKay. Ronon could see how Zelenka and Sheppard reacted similarly and Teyla's face contorted as though she felt their missing teammate's pain.

Certainly, there were times when McKay's arrogance and smart mouth could be said to be the cause of his own misfortune, but this was not the case now. The natives of what the Lantiens were calling P3X-247 had reportedly heard of McKay's prowess as a fixer of all things Ancient, and had invited him and his team to come examine their gate, which they believed to be malfunctioning. McKay had indeed found there to be some minor calibration issues, but when he had begun to disassemble the DHD everything changed.

Apparently, the locals had no idea that the gate and the DHD were essentially two parts of one device, and to them the DHD was a sacred, living thing. They'd expected McKay to tinker with the gate only, and removing an access panel on the DHD seemed to be the equivalent of desecrating their most sacred god. Their violently hostile response had been sudden and completely unexpected.

It had just been purely rotten luck that they'd secured Ronon and his teammates with iron manacles, for both he and Zelenka would have otherwise taken their _Wilding_ forms the moment they'd dragged McKay away. Instead they were helpless but to sit here and listen to McKay being tortured, very likely to death.

Certainly, Ronon was not one to give up, but he was at a loss as to what any of them might do now. For seven years he'd proved adept at surviving for himself, but he'd had no one else in all that time, to care for or protect. Now he had four, at least, and he could not say that he was satisfied with his success so far. Still, if he was furious with himself for his failure up till now, that was nothing compared to how it clearly was for Zelenka.

Ronon'd had a mate once, long ago, but he'd lost her when he'd lost everything else. At the time, even such a personal, heart rending loss had paled before the magnitude of losing his whole world and being made a runner. His whole world had subsequently condensed down to not letting the Wraith finish him, and all his grief and loss had burned away over those seven years. He could not say how it would have been, had he been forced to listen helplessly to his mate's pain cries as Zelenka was now, but he suspected that he too would have teetered on the brink of madness before very long, just as Zelenka looked to be now.

They heard McKay's voice cut through the silence again, and Zelenka's voice answered it, agonized and barely human as he threw himself against his bonds once again. Ronon jerked hard on his chains as well, thinking that maybe he could feel the wooden post they were fastened to give way a little, even as he knew that it wasn't, really.

"Sheppard..." Zelenka's voice was raw and shaking, and he was extending his bound wrists behind him towards where Sheppard sat, behind him and a little to his right. "You can... you can reach this, yes?"

Sheppard shifted around to reach his own hands towards Zelenka's. "I think so," he answered. "What are you..."

"With your mouth!" Zelenka hissed, wincing as metal manacles bit into his wrists. Sheppard froze and actually paled -something Ronon had never seen before.

"Zelenka... Radek, no," he gasped, shaking his head. "I can't... _we_ can't!"

Just then McKay screamed again and Zelenka echoed it with another sobbing cry. "Ty vole!" he shouted. "Then kill me, because I will go mad sitting here, Sheppard. What, in any god's name, could they do to us that could be worse than this?"

Sheppard bowed his head, muttering swears under his breath. Ronon had no idea what they were talking about, but he'd figured out some time ago that there were layers upon layers of secrets among the Lantiens, especially among the Fae, and that Sheppard was keeping a big one. When he looked up, glancing between himself and Teyla, Sheppard's expression was bleak.

"So, you guys have probably guessed by now that there's some things I've kept back," he said, "about me, and I'm sorry about that, but you're going to see everything in a minute and... no matter what it looks like, I want you to know that it's still me. I swear."

"You are a Shaper... like Ronon and Dr Zelenka, then?" Teyla asked.

"No exactly," Sheppard said, "but... maybe in a way. The thing is that if any of the military on Atlantis, or on Earth find out... I'm finished. I don't know if it will be possible after this..."

"You've kept my secret," Ronon said. "I can keep yours."

"Of course, John," Teyla confirmed for her part. "We know you. Your secrets are safe with us."

There was a flash of profound gratitude on Sheppard's face for a moment before he turned to Zelenka. "You ready Radek?" he asked. The scientist only thrust his arms out toward Sheppard again and this time he leaned forward, as though preparing to drink from Zelenka's cupped hands. Then Ronon saw him change and realized immediately that Sheppard was indeed preparing to drink, but not from Zelenka's hands.

The elongated fangs now visible in Sheppard's mouth could only have one purpose, and they were applied to that purpose even as they watched. Zelenka gave a soft cry as the fangs pierced the skin of his wrist, then threw his head back, eyes shut tight and panting as Sheppard drank.

Sheppard's eyes burned with green fire as the blood nourished him, and after only a moment he had broken the chains securing his arms, tearing them off his wrists as though they were made of tissue. His own hands free, Sheppard took hold of Zelenka's, pressing the wrist he drank from to his mouth to drink deeply for another moment or two as the scientist moaned in what seemed almost a sexual ecstasy. Then Sheppard lifted his head, bloody fangs and burning eyes still distinctly visible, and tore the bindings from Zelenka's wrists as well.

Of the wound his fangs ought to have left, Ronon observed, there was no trace, which he supposed was a good sign. Teyla seemed to be having a difficult time disguising what was clearly shock and alarm at Sheppard's actions, and his changed countenance, but she schooled her features to neutrality quickly enough. They ways of the Lantien Fae folk were strange, even Ronon thought so, but they had proven themselves trustworthy nonetheless, Sheppard more than any of them.

Zelenka had fallen back against the post to which his legs remained chained, breathing heavily as he stretched his newly freed arms. Sheppard was moving, however, breaking the manacles off his ankles and standing to shake out the stiffness in his long confined joints. Zelenka had come to look up at him expectantly by then and Sheppard stooped to free the scientist a second later, lending him a hand up the moment it was done.

There came another heart rending cry from beyond their hut just then, and in less time than it took Ronon to blink, Zelenka's clothes were on the floor and a grey streak was bounding _through_ the door, shattering it as he went. A brief, strangled cry, cut off in less than a heartbeat followed, and Ronon knew their guard had been dispatched, and then Sheppard was snapping the manacles off his own wrists and ankles, freeing him to follow.

Ronon's Wilding was eager to join the fight, but he held it in check, considering that there would be two 'Wildings' of a sort in the fight already, and that a couple of level heads would be needed more.

"Okay," Sheppard was saying as he turned to free Teyla, "we get McKay, we meet at the gate, yes?"

"Sounds like a plan," Ronon said, cautiously peering out the door and then helping himself to the long, bronze knife their guard no longer had a use for. "Only maybe we shouldn't gate straight back to Atlantis."

"I agree," Teyla said, gratefully accepting two stout wooden pieces of the door that Sheppard had broken like twigs and offered to Teyla in lieu of her usual fighting sticks. "Perhaps the world where we found Ronon, P3M-736?"

"Sure," Sheppard said from the doorway, clearly barely holding himself back. "Everyone ready?"

"I'm good," Ronon said and with that Sheppard was off into the night. Already Ronon could hear screams that were not McKay's coming from the crowd of natives up ahead, and he and Teyla made their way through the dark stealthily, as their companions had not. As a strategy no one had clearly thought out, it was still a good one. Zelenka's Wilding and Sheppard's... whatever he was, were serving as a fine distraction, leaving the two of them to make their way nearly completely unobserved.

Glancing up to take his bearings, Ronon could see Zelenka's Wilding, silhouetted in the light of the great pyre burning just beyond the altar where McKay was bound. He was standing on that alter, straddling McKay's body as he snapped and slashed at anyone who came near. Anyone with a grain of sense, Ronon thought, would stay well away when faced with such a ferocious opponent, but one of the 'priests' of the village and a few of his followers seemed determined to continue with their sacrifice.

In other circumstances, Ronon might admit to admiring such men for their bravery, just as he might excuse the villagers for their ignorance, but there could be no excuse for such a sadistic ritual as they'd clearly been subjecting McKay to. Ronon silently slit the throat of a man blocking his way without remorse, therefore, and continued to make his way toward the center, leaving a trail of bodies behind him.

A knot of activity just ahead proved to be Sheppard when he threw off one of the handful of assailants hanging on him and Ronon had to duck to avoid being struck by the flying body. Ronon finished him when he landed then turned to tear another 'priest' off of Sheppard, severing his hand when he came at Ronon with a knife and then severing his head on the back stroke. One opponent at a time, Ronon cleared Sheppard a path to the altar where Zelenka stood over his mate.

Ronon watched Sheppard's back as he bent down to snap the chains binding McKay to the altar. The natives seemed crazed with terror or fury, as though they believed that death at Ronon's hand -which he dealt out happily, again and again- was preferable to letting them take McKay and go on their way. Perhaps they did, or perhaps they'd drugged themselves for the ritual; it was all one to Ronon.

On the other side of the altar Teyla was dealing out death with equal fervor, now coming to engage the head priest who slashed at her with the same ceremonial knife he'd been using on Rodney. The blood coating its blade, and his hands, flashed vivid crimson in the light of the fire. The priest did not seem to want to engage Teyla, however, but kept trying to turn back to Rodney, no doubt wanting to finish the job he had started.

Zelenka, Ronon had a feeling, was eager for him to try, and more eager still to leap at the man and tear his throat out, but the priest was cagey, and managed to repeatedly avoid the Wilding's slashing teeth. There was a triumphant shout from Sheppard now, and a relieved groan from McKay as the last of his bindings were severed. He rolled away from his attackers instinctively, curling onto his side beneath Zelenka's legs as Zelenka seemed torn between comforting his mate and savaging his assailants.

It took hardly any thought at the point for Ronon to determine that it was Sheppard and Zelenka who ought to be covering their retreat as he and Teyla looked after Rodney, but when he reached for McKay he was confronted with a snarling Wilding, teeth and mouth red with his victims' blood.

"Zelenka!" Ronon shouted his name loudly over the din. "Let us take him to where it's safe. I can carry him. You... you go hurt people that need hurting, okay?"

The Wilding stood stiff legged over his mate, seemingly frozen, until Rodney moaned out, "Radek, it's Ronon. You can trust him."

The Wilding fixed Ronon with his yellow eyes and Ronon met his gaze, unflinching, for a long moment. Then the creature gave a satisfied huff and turned to where Teyla continued to grapple with the priest. With a savage growl Zelenka launched himself off the alter and right at the priest's throat. He was probably dead before he hit the ground, Ronon reflected, and when Radek raised his bloody muzzle to howl out his triumph, every one of the natives had to know that their leader was finished.

Ronon gathered McKay carefully into his arms then, after first handing his pilfered blade to Sheppard. He couldn't tell, in the chaos and uncertain light, just how badly the scientist had been injured, though it did seem that he had been both burned and cut, and some pattern or symbols seemed to have been carved across his chest. McKay gave a stifled, pained sound when Ronon picked him up, but he did not protest, fisting his hands into Ronon's shirt instead.

"I've got you, McKay," Ronon reassured, just as one of the priest's henchmen -eyes crazed and screeching with lust for revenge- came at them. Before he could raise a hand Sheppard had him, lifting him by the waist and dashing his head against the altar as though he weighed no more than a doll. The suddenness of his silence seemed at last to strike a blow to the general moral of the natives, and they began to disperse into the night.

They made their way largely unimpeded after that, Teyla at Ronon's side, Zelenka clearing a path before them and Sheppard watching their back. Someone tried to throw a spear at them as they entered the clearing before the gate and Sheppard caught it in mid air and returned it to the sender in one swift and savage movement. The strangled scream that erupted from the darkness behind them suggested that it had found its owner.

Teyla dialed the gate, which McKay and Zelenka had fortunately managed to repair before their efforts had been interrupted, and reminded them that they were not returning directly to Atlantis. Sheppard looked as though he wanted to object for a moment, but even now, with whatever Zelenka's blood had unleashed in him in control, he knew better than to oppose her.

They stepped through the gate together, Zelenka facing forward and Sheppard facing the back, but not a soul dared to venture out into the clearing as they made their way to the blue shimmer of the event horizon. It was, thankfully, dusk on P3M-736 when they arrived, sparing them from the hazards of its high UV sun.

Ronon laid Rodney down on a soft, mossy patch near the DHD and the others gathered nearby, Zelenka lying down at his mate's side and Sheppard pacing restlessly at the periphery. It was still difficult to see the extent of McKay's injuries in the poor light, but Ronon had not felt any particularly large loss of blood as he carried the scientist, and he'd seemed lucid during the rescue. Based on that, Ronon figured that although the man was in some serious pain, his injuries were not, for the moment, life threatening. Sheppard seemed to feel differently, however.

"Look," he said, still pacing, bloody knife still in one hand and his eyes still glowing faintly in the twilight. "We can't wait here. McKay needs medical attention now. Teyla, dial the gate."

Zelenka looked up at Sheppard then down at McKay and licked his face. Ronon watched his team leader cautiously, but Teyla was the one who approached him, daring to lay a gentle yet firm hand on his arm.

"John," she said, steel in her voice for all that her words were softly spoken. "We are here so that your current... condition will not be seen on Atlantis. You need to regain control of yourself, and we are all willing to wait until you can. Rodney's situation is not so urgent."

"They hurt him," Sheppard replied, sounding for all the world like a protective mate, to Ronon's ears. "He's hurting. He needs help."

"John," McKay's voice was not loud and sounded roughened and pained, but it was determined nonetheless. "You can't go back to Atlantis like this. Teyla's right; I can wait."

Zelenka whined a little. He, more than anyone else, Ronon had a feeling, knew exactly how much pain Rodney was in. Rodney lifted a hand to calm him, however, fingers moving through the fur behind his ears and Zelenka lowered his head to rest on an uninjured portion of Rodney's shoulder. If Zelenka was not prodding them all through the gate then Sheppard had to know that McKay's situation wasn't urgent.

"Alright, fine..." the Colonel acquiesced, running both hands through his hair. He paced restlessly for another moment, clearly trying to find some peace of mind and failing badly.

"Okay, you know what," he said finally, "I need to get this blood off me. It's really not helping."

Ronon nodded. Whatever Sheppard's 'Fae' form was, clearly it had something to do with blood, so it made sense that he'd want to be rid of the blood smearing his face and hands -only barely visible in the low light- in order to shed his current aspect. "There's a good stream not far from here," he offered, recalling the time he'd spent on this world as a runner. "I'll take you there and you can go wash yourself off."

"Sounds like a plan," Sheppard said, still sounding a little twitchy. It reminded Ronon of how he'd felt when he'd been on the Wraith enzyme and he wondered if this was an effect of Zelenka's blood alone, or if any blood would do that to Sheppard. Ronon could see how hard it was for the man to control himself, and he hoped that the condition wouldn't last much longer. Coming down would suck, no matter what.

He lead Sheppard off in the direction he knew the stream to be, but paused a few paces into the forest. "My Wilding will do a lot better seeing in the dark... if it's not a problem?"

"No, no," Sheppard answered distractedly. "Not at all."

Ronon nodded briefly, then stepped out of his tunic and trousers and took on the form that was suited far better to their current circumstances. After prodding Sheppard into gathering up his discarded clothes, Ronon lead them unerringly to the stream he'd recalled. The water smelled cool and clean and it formed a small pool a few paces down from where they'd encountered it. Ronon immediately crouched at the bank and drank deeply.

Sheppard knelt down beside him after a moment, lifting the water to his face in his cupped hands at first, then abandoning this half measure to plunge his face directly into the icy water. Ronon watched him scrub at his face for a moment, then lift his head with a gasp, shaking it vigorously so that the water from his hair flew every which way.

"Fuck that's cold!" he said, panting a bit as he recovered. Ronon sat back, regarding him with a silent twitch of his whiskers. Sheppard continued to kneel in silence at the water's edge, eyes closed now as he sought to calm himself. Eventually Ronon heard his heartbeat slow, a little.

"Crap," he said after another little while. "I can see why wars started over this."

Ronon had by now gotten used to the Lantians saying things that made no sense to him, but had come to trust that when it was important it would be explained. He knew then, that Sheppard would either explain what he had just said, or that he could write it off as irrelevant. Ronon waited to see which it would be.

"My people call themselves Night Hunters," Sheppard began after a moment, confirming Ronon's suspicion that there would be an explanation coming in this case. "But most people on Earth know us as vampires. We can... sustain ourselves by drinking blood, but it's not usually necessary and we don't feed without permission -not these days, anyhow. Mostly."

Ronon nodded, standing up on his four legs as Sheppard stood up on his two and combed his fingers through his wet, disordered hair. His eyes, Ronon noted, looked somewhat more human now, and it was clear that Sheppard felt himself to be in better control as he inclined his head to indicate to Ronon that they could make their way back to the gate. 

They went at a casual pace, Ronon trotting along at his side effortlessly as Sheppard slowly revealed his story.

**

"Is it only your blood, Radek, that causes this change in Colonel Sheppard?" Teyla asked, her question politely directed at both Rodney and himself, though only Rodney would be able to answer her presently.

"Actually," Rodney replied, "Sheppard can change his appearance at any time. The, ah..." Rodney raised his hand to indicate his eyes and mouth, then winced as the movement exacerbated some injury. Radek winced in turn and gently nudged his mate's hand down.

"That's his true appearance," Rodney continued. "He's just been hiding it all this time."

"Because of what he told us," Teyla worked out quickly enough. "Because if others knew..."

"If the military found out his career would be over," Rodney finished for her. "He'd be jailed or, probably, worse."

"Why?" Teyla asked, incredulous. Radek had always liked how she was never afraid to let them know when she though a particular Earth custom or law to be obviously idiotic.

"Because they think his kind -they're called vampires," Rodney answered, his tone making it clear that he agreed with her. "They think they're too dangerous, and that they can't control themselves. They think that about Radek's people too."

Teyla's incredulous gaze met Radek's directly for a moment before she dropped it and shook her head ruefully. "We have developed a depressing theory, Ronon and I," she said, "that your people, lacking anything real to fear, have invented a whole world of foolish things to fear, and have come to oppress themselves as cruelly as any Wraith."

Radek considered this idea, as did Rodney. "As sorry as I am to say so," he replied after a moment, "that may not be an entirely stupid theory."

**

"Blood... keeps us young, heals us when we're wounded or sick," Sheppard explained as they walked. "It protects us and preserves us, so we live a lot longer than ordinary humans, but usually that's all it does."

Ronon nodded to himself, no idea if Sheppard could see him or not.

"Blood from a Wolf, though," he continued, "from any of Zelenka's people, that has a different effect. It makes us really strong, and fast, and it makes us... it's like the enzyme. It feels... really good, and it makes us a little crazy. Also, I think it might be addictive."

Ronon loped around to stand in front of Sheppard and then stopped, forcing him to do the same as he looked hard into Sheppard's eyes. The green fire was nearly gone now, and there was a trace of anxious dread there.

"Yeah," Sheppard said with resignation. "You should probably... keep us as far apart as possible for the next little while."

**

"There is such a great difference between the effect of ordinary human blood and that of Zelenka's people on these... vampires?" Teyla asked.

"No one knows why," Rodney replied, "but yes, and it's addictive too. In the past vampire tribes would take a wolf captive and keep them just to be fed from. It's the kind of practice that starts feuds and wars -ones that last for hundreds of years."

"Will Sheppard be addicted then?" Teyla asked. "And will we have to protect Zelenka from him?"

"I... I don't know," Rodney said turning a troubled gaze at Radek. "If it was only one feeding, and it wasn't much, maybe it wouldn't be so bad."

In truth, Radek wasn't at all sure. He'd heard tales of the atrocities -all wolves learned them- but nothing in them made it clear how quickly a vampire might become addicted to wolf's blood, nor what kind of withdrawal symptoms Sheppard might have.

"Beckett might know," Rodney continued after a moment. "I hope he does, anyway. If he doesn't..." Rodney trailed off, too many worries to voice them all. Radek worried too. Sheppard was a good man, and a good friend, surprisingly enough, and it was a friendship Radek would be very sorry to lose.

**

"So the final compact that ended the wars forbade any vampire from feeding from any wolf," Sheppard explained as they got underway again. Ronon nodded, for he could see the sense of it. He understood feuds, and knew how difficult it could be to truly end them. It would take a couple of generations at least, and if those generations could last two hundred years each or more? Laying the last memory of hatred to rest might take a very long time indeed.

"Of course, enforcement had to be total," Sheppard clarified, "and it has been -in the last hundred years or so, anyway. There were a few... purges, in the beginning, among the clan leaders, of clan chiefs who weren't willing to abide by such strict enforcement, but these days you never hear of any infractions. That's why what Zelenka and I did... well, it's going to be noticed and it's going to cause problems."

All of that certainly made sense to Ronon, though how any of Sheppard's or Zelenka's leaders, back in their home galaxy, would know of what they had done, Ronon had no idea. Of course, the Wraith had a... mind link of some sort, that made it possible for the queens to know much about the state of her hives at great distance. Though Ronon would never say that Sheppard was anything like a Wraith (even if some might, if they knew the truth about him) he allowed how it might be possible that his people also shared some mental connection. If they did Sheppard's current, highly agitated state of mind would not be missed.

**

"It is truly possible that both your people's leaders will know of this?" Teyla asked. "Even though they reside in another galaxy?" It was an understandable question, Radek had to own.

"The Fae Realms exist outside of normal time and space," Rodney explained, in a tone that revealed how often he'd had to explain it. "Though the Wolves and the Night Hunters have both been banished from the Realms themselves, they're still connected through it, so that physical distance is irrelevant."

Teyla furrowed her brows as she contemplated this. She was far from stupid, Radek knew, but such ideas had to be very new to the Athosian woman. Doctors Grodin and Parrish, both nearly full blood Fae, had mentioned to Radek that they'd sensed Thresholds to the Realms here and there, on various worlds in this galaxy, but that the locals remained entirely ignorant of them. No doubt there had been Fae Folk in Pegasus once -Folk like Ronon- but the Wraith would seem to have nearly completely exterminated them, and the knowledge of the Realms and its Thresholds with them.

Even as he thought of Ronon, Radek noticed movement at the edge of the forest and saw someone entering the clearing around the gate. It must be Ronon, he reflected, bearing the form Radek had not yet seen him in, with Sheppard at his side. In contrast to Ronon, Sheppard was looking nearly human now, though he hung back as soon as his eyes fell on Radek, and Radek could feel the momentary surge of hunger from the vampire. Radek swore to himself that he would not regret what they had done, but it was clear that there would be serious and complicated consequences, and he was only beginning to see them now.

Happily, the others seemed to understand the situation, for Teyla rose as they approached and placed herself, along with Ronon, between Sheppard and himself. Instinctively, Radek bristled at the notion that he needed protecting from the vampire, but then schooled himself with the knowledge that it was not protection that they had in mind, but prevention. Rodney looked worried, but Radek nuzzled him and licked his cheek, letting him know that they were in good hands. He remained at his mate's side but stood as Ronon approached.

The two 'Wildings' greeted each other, nose to nose, then Ronon turned to look back at Sheppard and Radek saw now that the Colonel carried Ronon's clothes. He handed them to Teyla who, in turn, tossed the bundle over to Ronon. He took it in his mouth and promptly disappeared behind the DHD, and a moment later the large, mahogany colored cat was gone and Ronon, shirt hanging lose and untucked, was standing up from behind the pedestal.

"We ready to go?" he asked, putting the last of his garments in order.

"Dial it," Sheppard replied with a nod, though he remained standing at some distance. "You guys go first and Teyla and I'll follow after."

\--------------

Radek remained at Rodney's side as his mate made to push himself upright. He winced and bit back a grunt of pain as he did so and Radek whined at the echo of aches and worse he felt from his mate. Radek sensed Rodney's desire to go through the gate on his own two feet as much as his discomforts, however, and so lent his support, as well as he could. Ronon came to join him as soon as they gate had been dialed, and the two of them had him up and moving by the time the wormhole was established.

Radek could not help looking over his shoulder at Sheppard as they stood at the threshold, for the newly forged blood link between them did not want to be severed, even for the short time they would be separated on opposite sides of the wormhole. What Radek felt from his mate was stronger, and decidedly predominant, but Sheppard's barely restrained jitters and urges were impossible to ignore.

It made him deeply uneasy, and made it impossible for him to leave the Wolf, even though his human form would be far more useful to Rodney at the moment. Of course, Radek's clothes all lay on the floor of the hut where they'd been held captive as well, so maybe he would stay with the Wolf until they reached the infirmary where scrubs could be provided.

Strangely, the few seconds he and Sheppard were separated by the gate Radek found both a relief and slightly disturbing absence. The vampire's state of mind at the moment was definitely unsettling, but having Sheppard's presence in his mind so suddenly cut off was discomfiting. Radek could not help but wonder if he would miss it when the link finally weakened and faded, as it would if Sheppard did not feed from him again.

As disturbing as this question was, it was all driven out of Radek's head by the flurry of activity in the gate room spurred by their arrival. Beckett was called for and a moment later Sheppard and Teyla were there and Radek's thoughts were once again disturbed by the Vampire's uneasy and barely under control state of mind. It took all his concentration to focus on his mate alone, and not on Sheppard's distress, as much as it was focused on him.

"I think they may have drugged him," Radek heard Teyla explaining to Carson, about Sheppard, he realized admiring the cleverness of her cover story. Of course this meant that Sheppard would be coming to the infirmary with them as well, but once there the doctor would be able to separate them, and could be told the truth of why it was necessary.

Before long they were all headed down the corridor to the infirmary, Radek trotting along side Rodney's gurney and listening with half an ear to the cursory debrief Teyla and Ronon were giving Dr Weir. Much of what had happened could be reported accurately, but their escape and other details could not be, and Radek needed to keep track of what was being said to Weir now so that they could keep their stories straight. The true facts would be relayed soon enough.

"Bloody Hades, Colonel," Carson finally said when everyone but the doctor and the team had been cleared from the infirmary and Sheppard had informed him succinctly of what had not been said in the gate room. "Tell me you didn't just say what I think you said."

"They had to," Rodney said weakly from his gurney. "They were all bound in iron and I... I was being tortured to death, where they could hear..."

"Zelenka's blood made Sheppard strong enough to break the chains," Ronon put in. "He got us all out, we got McKay, came back here."

"Actually..." Teyla began, glancing around at the others, but Radek knew that Carson ought to know everything, so he nodded when Teyla's eyes met his. "We did not come directly back here but went by way of another world where Sheppard could... regain control of his appearance. We thought it best..."

"Aye," Carson said with resignation. "It was probably wise, given your circumstances. I take this to mean that Sheppard wasn't actually drugged, then?"

"No," Teyla said. "And I apologize for... misleading you..."

"Nay, there's no need," Carson replied quickly. "It was a good explanation, and necessary for the others, I'm sorry to say. Seeing as I've got the full story now, however, I'll be needing some time to work on Rodney while you, Colonel, need to clean up and settle yourself in the isolation ward for now, and you, Radek, need to go take these scrubs to the washroom and quit shedding all over my infirmary."

Radek took the neatly rolled set of scrubs in his mouth and trotted off to do as he was told, satisfied that Ronon remained looking over Rodney as Teyla followed after Sheppard. It was only after he had changed that Radek realized how much blood he'd had on his face and body, and so took a few minutes to wash up before he changed into the scrubs Carson had given him. The smell of the blood brought back memories of the fury he'd unleashed on the ignorant natives who'd thought to appease their gods by torturing his mate to death, and the heat of protective ferocity surged through him again for a moment before he tamped it down.

Rodney was safe, and those who had harmed him would never harm anyone again. Even as he thought this, however, he felt an answering flush of protective rage from Sheppard, echoing his own from a moment before. _He is mine to protect, not yours!_ Radek growled silently to the presence in his mind, but even as he thought it, he realized that this was not entirely true.

He had given Sheppard leave, after all, to protect his mate when they were off world without Radek, and Radek had made it clear enough that he trusted Sheppard with this duty. How could it be acceptable that Sheppard do this, but unacceptable that he have some feeling about it? Radek shook his head at the conundrum and went out back out to find his mate. Sheppard was a puzzle, but Rodney was his mate, his pack, his home and while he was with him everything else dropped away. Carson was just finishing up the last of Rodney's stitches when Radek reappeared, bending to place an affectionate kiss on his mate's forehead.

"Hey you," Rodney murmured muzzily, reaching up to touch Radek's face. Ronon, sitting on an adjacent bed and waiting for Carson to attend his own small wounds, nodded quietly in Radek's direction, welcoming his fellow Shaper back to his human form.

"Miláčku," Radek replied, taking up his mate's hand as he sank gratefully into a bedside chair opposite from where Carson was working. Rodney squeezed his hand weakly.

"You're... you're going to be in trouble for this, aren't you?" Rodney asked, and Radek grimaced. He hadn't wanted to think about that just now, but his mate was too damned smart, and also a worrier. Radek nodded with a sigh.

"I do not know exactly how it will be addressed," Radek said honestly. "It has been so very long since there has been such an infraction, and never, to my knowledge, one such as this, where both participants were willing. We will both likely receive some official notice in the next day or so, and... I strongly suspect we will be asked to return to Earth, to give account of ourselves."

"No!" Rodney's response was immediate and alarmed. "You can't go! They can't make you go! I need you here, both of you!"

"Rodney," Carson warned, laying a calming hand on his shoulder. "You told me you didn't need a sedative..."

"My Pack Master may command me, Rodney," Radek said, laying his free hand gently over Rodney's heart, pressing him back. "It is his right and my duty, but what he cannot do is separate me from my mate. As long as you remain here, they must allow me to return to you."

"But..." Rodney's voice came uncertainly now, small with self doubt. "I'm... I'm not a wolf."

"You are my mate!" Radek said, quietly fierce as he leaned closer, clutching Rodney's hand in both of his. "Our bond is a true one, and no Wolf would deny it. Any that does will know my teeth!" Radek barred his teeth then, so fiercely that even Carson stepped back a pace and Ronon, watching them, barred his own teeth in an amused grin.

Carson was evidently not the only one to feel the intensity of Radek's emotion, for there came a small commotion from the isolation ward and the door opened a crack.

"John, no!" Teyla's voice came from within, and Ronon sat up in his cot, ready to intervene. "Rodney is in no danger, and you must stay away from Radek. Please, come back and sit down, now."

"Think _he_ oughta be sedated?" Ronon half inquired, half suggested.

"Aye, ye may have a point," Carson said with a reluctant sigh as the door to the isolation ward closed again. "Though I've no real idea of how it will effect him, if at all. Ye don't mind waiting?" he asked Ronon. Ronon, of course, just shook his head.

The three of them watched the doctor trot back to deal with Sheppard and then Radek turned his regard to his mate once again. The worry in Rodney's eyes had not really diminished and Radek wanted nothing more than to curl up on the bed beside his mate, though he knew he could not. Ronon would certainly understand, but the medical cot was narrow, and Rodney's many small hurts would make it impossible for him to manage such a thing comfortably. Radek leaned down to lay his head on an uninjured part of Rodney's shoulder instead, reaching one hand out to gently stroke his mate's hair.

"We have done nothing wrong," he said softly, to himself as much as to his mate. "They must see that. They must..." Rodney would hear no confidence in his words, and would feel none in his heart, but he would know Radek's determination. It was the best they could do for now.

***

The expected notice arrived two days later -the beautiful, hand made paper envelope with its ornate, official seal lying just inside the door to their quarters, as though it had been slipped under a door that both he and Rodney knew nothing could be slipped under.

Radek was angry at himself for the dismay he felt when he saw it. He'd known it was coming, and therefore his disappointment was foolish, but he felt it nonetheless, and his mate felt it too. They shared a anxious glance when they spotted the envelope upon waking that morning and then Radek let his anger propel him out of the bed and pick the thing up, breaking the seal without hesitation.

It didn't say exactly what he'd expected it to, but Radek could tell it would amount to the same thing. An Inquisitor from the Elder Council would be coming to investigate the situation personally, and to escort the pertinent subjects to their relevant clan or tribal authorities. Evidently they did not even trust him and Sheppard to answer a legal summons from their own leaders, Radek thought with contempt. He barely restrained himself from ripping the offensive document into tiny shreds.

"I must inform Dr Weir," he told Rodney with a resigned sigh. "We will have our first... dignitary from the Realms arriving in two days... and then I will be leaving with him, as most likely will Sheppard."

Radek could feel the distress rolling off his mate, but Rodney only firmed his mouth in an unhappy slant and nodded. They were unsurprised to meet up with Sheppard on the way to expedition leader's office, but when they arrived not one of them had expected to see Carson Beckett in her office ahead of them, a familiar, finely crafted missive clutched in one hand.

"An Inquisitor is only sent when either the facts of a case are complicated and possibly being hidden," Carson explained unhappily, a little later, over a breakfast that none of them seemed too interested in eating, "or in a situation where two or more unrelated cases seemed to have occurred in the same place or community. There are certain Elders who have never approved of the sort of work I do. They think it's too close to a Forbidden Pursuit, and they don't like it that I'm not supervised, working where I do." He sighed and pushed back his nearly full plate, evidently giving up on it.

"Obviously there's nothing complicated or occluded about what you lads did," he continued. "They're just using it as an excuse to get an Inquisitor out here and try and catch me out somehow, and I've no doubt he'll find something I've done here that could be interpreted as 'crossing a line'. I'll be called back to the Realms to explain myself before the Council in person I'm afraid... and I'm not sure how long it'll take me to satisfy them to where they'll let me come back."

All morning Radek had felt his mate only just barely holding his panic at bay, and it was all his could do to contain his own distress. Thankfully, he hardly felt anything from Sheppard now, but Radek did not need the fading blood link to sense the smoldering fury in the man as he listened to Carson. It burned in his narrowed eyes and was barely concealed behind the flat line of his mouth.

"They can't do this!" Rodney's fists came down on either side of his plate suddenly, and Radek could feel his mate's composure cracking. "The bastards! How can they do this? They can't fucking take all of you..."

"Rodney!" Radek hissed as a number of heads in the mess hall turned their direction. He laid a hand on his mate's shoulder to keep him in his chair and Sheppard mirrored the gesture on Rodney's other side. At that moment, Radek had no room in his heart for anything other than gratitude.

"They can take us," he said, low and urgent, "but they cannot keep us. Our destinies do not belong to the Elders of the Realms, but to Atlantis. You know this, yes?"

Rodney subsided, somewhat, eventually muttering, "I'm not giving you up without a fight."

"Hold that fight, Rodney," Sheppard answered him, voice low and hard, "for when you can win it, not now. You hear me?"

Radek felt him seething for a long, tense moment, then he relented, shoulders slumping under his and Sheppard's hands. "If you're not around," he said eventually, "when it's time to make that call... you're gonna have to trust me."

"I do trust you, Rodney," Sheppard answered him, and through the last thread of the link Radek retained he could feel the man throw himself open completely for just a moment as he met Rodney's eyes. "I've always trusted you," he said and Radek felt his mate's answering trust, just as he felt it from his own heart.

 

The Inquisitor, when he arrived, took two brief interviews, one each with Radek and Sheppard, and then spent the better part of a day and a half grilling Dr Carson Beckett. When the two of them finally exited the briefing room Carson looked beaten, as Radek had never seen him before, and he waved both he and Rodney off, insisting that he just wanted to go retire in his quarters alone. The Inquisitor would give them his final decision in the morning.

The meeting he called was attended by Dr Weir, himself, Rodney, Radek, Colonel Sheppard and no one else. Elizabeth had wanted Peter Grodin, the expedition's unofficial Fae Realms Liaison included as well but the Inquisitor all but closed the conference room door in his face. He nearly excluded Rodney until Radek bared his teeth at him, and then allowed him to pass with a whithering look of the utmost disdain.

"The Wolf and the Night Hunter will be rendered forthwith to their respective chieftains," the Inquisitor began without preamble. His name was Dolorind and he was, Rodney had explained to Radek after he had first arrived, a scion of one of the oldest, most prestigious Elvish families in the Realms.

"It would be my personal recommendation that they never be placed on the same posting again," he continued coldly, "but that is the purview of their respective leaders, not the Council. As for this one, however..." Radek bristled at the depths of the disrespect in the Inquisitor's non-addressing of Carson Beckett, and felt the same from Rodney.

"I was warned, by those who sent me on this investigation," the Inquisitor continued, "that this son of the Becketts clan plays a dangerous but careful game with our prohibitions -the very prohibitions he promised to honor when he left the Realms to do his... 'researches' among mortals. After lengthy conversations, I come to the unhappy, but unsurprising conclusion that he honors these prohibitions, possibly, in letter, but hardly in spirit. I find this entirely unacceptable, and I feel sure that the Council will find the same. I must therefore insist that he return to the Realms to answer to the charges of having a Fallen Nature, such that he must be taken under the control of his betters."

At the words 'Fallen Nature' Radek saw Carson Beckett go dead white and only his grip on Rodney's arm kept his mate from springing out of his seat in outrage.

"There is _nothing_ in this man's nature that is anything like 'Fallen'," Rodney snarled, "and I'll testify before every Elder in the Realms to refute any of the..."

Whatever course language Rodney was attempting to restrain was cut off coolly by the Inquisitor. "The Council will hear no testimony from taboo breakers, Changeling," he said. "You are exile, and will not be allowed entrance now any more than any of the previous times you have attempted. Please do not waste any more of our time on these histrionics."

Radek felt his mate's seething outrage, but knew himself to be even more helpless in this situation than his mate. All Wolves and Vampires had been excluded from the Realms generations ago. Furthermore, he and Sheppard were both under orders now, and must render themselves over to their family heads before anything else. More than three years of fighting, suffering and bleeding in opposition of the most vile enemy know to mortal or fae, and this was their reward.

 

Thus it was that the four of them found themselves ensconced, on their last night together on Atlantis, in the physicists break room, in the company of a couple of bottles of a liquor whose origins only Radek knew. He had, in fact, left his precious distillery in the hands of Sergent James Stackhouse, a true son of West Virginia with an honorable family heritage of moonshining.

There were so many precious things Radek had had to leave in others' hands. The job of being Rodney's 'right hand' had seemed too big to pass on to any one scientist, so he had designated Drs Kusanagi and Coleman to fill that role, which now included the care and management of Rodney himself. It ought to have given Radek some comfort to see how seriously the two women had taken their assignment, but all he could think was how neither one of them was him.

The mood all around was morose, but Rodney was still jittery with righteous indignation, and began the evening pacing the cluttered room, drink sloshing as he gestured vehemently.

"How, in all the Gods' names," he ranted, "can they imagine that anyone would take you for having a 'fallen nature'? I mean, I know that Fae politics can get dirty; I did grow up there, after all, and my dads gave me a thorough education, but this... this is ludicrous! Has the entire Elder Council become brain damaged since I left?"

"A great many on the Council have always been... uncomfortable with my work, Rodney," Carson said with defeated patience. "You knew that as well as I -it's why I decided to do my work among mortals, though now that makes it look as though I've never intended to abide by the prohibitions. It makes their case rather a strong one, I'm afraid."

"What case?" Radek asked at last, too curious to stay silent, even though he knew more discussion of the matter would only irritate his mate further. "What are they trying to prove that you did?"

"They don't need to prove that he's actually _done_ anything," Rodney answered with biting contempt. "Which is handy for them, because he hasn't. No, they're claiming that his 'nature' is bad, that he's gone 'darkside'." Radek had to take the glass out of Rodney's hand for the second use of air quotes, lest more liquor be spilled in his ire.

"Among the Fae, they describe someone as having a 'fallen nature' who's become bent on world domination, or genocide or... something else equally ridiculous," Rodney continued, hands now free to gesture dramatically. "And they're saying that Carson is someone like that, just because some of the old fuddy-duddies on the Council are afraid of what he might find out about the First Makers, like maybe they weren't angels."

"Huh?" said Sheppard, who hadn't actually been drinking that much. "But... they made us," he gestured to himself and Radek. "How can anyone think they were 'angels'?" Sheppard did not use air quotes, but his skepticism was clear in his voice.

"And why do you think the Wolves and the Vampires are exiled?" Rodney replied. "Because they behaved badly? No, it's because their very existence is a raw reminder that the First Makers were coldly pragmatic, mercenary sons of bitches who probably made the Wraith by accident."

"Which is why Making is a prohibited practice," Carson pointed out.

"Which you _were never doing!_ " Rodney rejoined stridently.

"Rodney," Radek said quietly, pulling his mate down to sit beside him and pressing a refilled drink into his hand. "No one is saying that he did."

"No, of course not," Rodney muttered into his drink. "Not even the Council. They're just railroading him, depriving him of his freedom and Atlantis of our CMO because the truth makes them uncomfortable. That's perfectly reasonable."

Distracted, Rodney followed this pronouncement with a large gulp of liquor, which rendered him incapable of speaking for several minutes. A brooding silence followed his bout of whooping and coughing which Sheppard finally broke.

"So, ah, what did that Inquisitor mean when he called you a taboo breaker, McKay?" he asked.

"What did he mean?" Rodney glowered. "What he meant was to remind me that whoever makes the rules in the Realms has always been a rat bastard."

"Well that certainly clears things up," Sheppard quipped.

"The taboo he was talking about was from when Rodney first left the Realms, where he grew up," Carson offered, more helpfully.

"Is how he became exile?" Radek asked. Rodney had never said anything about this even to him, and it was easy to guess that it was a painful memory for his mate. "If you do not wish to speak of it..." he said, turning to Rodney.

"Doesn't matter," Rodney answered morosely. "Just more of their bullshit."

"It's they way it's always been done," Carson said with a sigh. "Whenever any mortal, who's been a long term guest in the Realms, asks to go back and visit someone in mortal lands, but intends to return to the Realms, there's a customary gift taboo. It's in all the stories..."

"And it's always a crock in all the stories too," Rodney interjected. "I mean, how was I supposed to know that I even _had_ a sister, and that the handful of _weeds_ she shoved at me constituted a 'gift'?"

"It's how it was meant, lad," Carson said sadly, in a way that made Radek think this was an old conversation.

"So..." Radek tried to work it out. "You were told not to accept any gift from your sister?"

"I was told not to accept any gift from any member of my family," Rodney replied. "So I figured, nothing from my mom or dad, or from any grandparents, should I have any..."

"But no one told you you had a little sister," Sheppard guessed, "and you were only on the lookout for older people."

"She met me at the front gate," Rodney confirmed miserably. "Before I was even in the yard. 'These are for you,' she said, and I took them. I mean, why wouldn't I take them? Even if they were just a bunch of dandelions... I mean, she was, like, seven..."

"That is kind of a raw deal," Sheppard said. "And just like all the old stories. Is life in the Realms always like that?"

"More or less," Rodney replied with a pained smile. "Doesn't mean I don't wanna go back, though."

"I understand, miláčku," Radek said quietly, curling an arm around his waist to pull him in close. "I think we all do."

 

Up until now, Radek had always thought of the saddest day in his life as being the one he'd left home, having finally been granted permission to leave the country to attend an engineering conference in America. His family all knew he intended to defect, with no idea of when, if ever, he would be able to return, and while many, like his mother, gave him her blessing, even as she sorrowed to see him go, others regarded him as a deserter, and a fool for thinking he could make his life away from the pack.

It had been a miserable time, compounded by the need to keep up a cheerful face in front of the government and party officials who'd accompanied him through the first part of his journey, but he'd at least had an exciting future to look forward to then. Radek's future now was uncertain at best, and the seemingly irremediable injustice of the whole situation was galling, for all of them.

Even Dr Weir looked like she wanted to hit something as she looked over the three of them that morning, bags packed and assembled before the gate. Rodney stood at the center or those seeing them off, Ronon and Teyla flanking him closely, their expressions were fierce and protective. It served as a small comfort to Radek to know that his mate would be looked after, even if it wasn't by him.

Peter Grodin and Major Lorne stood just behind Elizabeth, their steadfast loyalty easy to see, and Lorne sketch a casual salute as his eyes met Sheppard's.

"I'll just be keeping your chair warm here, sir," he said. "You're no way getting out of this job yet."

"Definitely not," Elizabeth concurred. "I've been making calls all week and I've got more to make today. This fight is not over by a long shot."

"And we'll be missing you every minute you're gone," Dr Biro said, coming up to give Carson a determined hug. "So don't be gone long."

Carson's face was wet when they parted and Radek strove to keep his own tears at bay. He and Rodney had both struggled not to completely fall apart all the long night before as they'd held each other tight and pretended to sleep. His heart ached, and he could see the same pain in Rodney's eyes as Chuck dialled the gate. The rush of the blooming event horizon fell on his ears like a death sentence.

" _Můj druh,_ " Radek whispered, drawing his mate into his arms one more time (but not the last time -he swore it would not be). "They will not keep us apart long. They cannot. Just stay... stay alive and I will come back to you. It _must_ be so."

Rodney said nothing as they parted, though he kept Radek's hand firmly clasped in his as they approached the gate, and his eyes were a little too bright. Beside him, Sheppard's countenance was thunderous, though Radek thought he sensed some small measure of fear there as well. He stood in silence before the rippling event horizon for a moment, then turned to face the gate room, lifting his hand in a salute.

"It's been an honor," he said, biting off the words quickly before he turned and strode through the gate.

"Lady be with you all," Radek heard Sky Parrish's voice from the top of the stairs, "and bring you all safely home."

"Thank you everyone," Carson replied, "and I hope... I hope... oh bloody Hades..." His voice failed him then entirely and he could only turn, head down and disconsolate, and trot through the portal back to Earth.

"Radek..." Rodney's voice was broken as he dragged him back for one, last, desperate kiss, and then Radek had to break it off or the wormhole would close before he stepped into it. "Miláčku," he said, tasting tears and not knowing if they were his or Rodney's, and then he turned and fled -back to a home that could never be his home again.

*****


	9. Tale the Eighth: Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With out heroes scattered, separated and exiled, those who remain do what they can to bring them back, and Rodney McKay forges ahead with a plan no one can quite fathom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers: none

**Tale the Eighth: Truth**

 

In the days and weeks that followed the expulsion of Dr Radek Zelenka, Colonel John Sheppard and Dr Carson Beckett from Atlantis, Elizabeth Weir watched her Head of Science carefully. She wasn't the only one, of course, and she supposed that it shouldn't have come as any surprise to her that Rodney McKay was behaving like a man who knew he was being watched.

Where he might, in the past, have ordinarily been irascible, these days, he was more... subdued. On occasions where she would have expected impatience, he showed tolerance. Rather than his usual sarcastic scolding, Rodney lectured, with a long suffering put-upon air to be sure, but the old verbal fireworks were nowhere to be seen. Some might have been expecting this personality transformation to result in a higher output from the labs, but Elizabeth knew better.

She did not fail to take into account how much Radek Zelenka's quiet contributions really meant to the overall achievement of the science division and moreover understood that, having gotten used to McKay's mercurial management style, the men and women who worked under him hardly knew how to act around this changed version of their tempestuous boss. Moral actually dropped, in spite of the 'calmer' atmosphere, and advances gradually ground to a halt.

Elizabeth worried, Teyla seemed at a loss, and Ronon was going around with the glower that indicated a strong desire to shoot something, but they all should have known that McKay was only biding his time. The penny dropped the day that the Daedalus arrived and Rodney appeared in her office with two letters in his hand.

"I won't say it's all the same to me," he explained, "because we both know I fully intend to come back here, so the sabbatical makes more sense," he pushed the paper in his right hand forward on her desk as a suggestion. "But if you find that you can't grant me that, then I'll just resign." He tapped the paper under his left hand.

"It's in my contract, as I'm sure you know," he continued matter-of-factly, "so if you won't give me the first, you'll have to accept the second."

Of course, Elizabeth could grant Rodney his sabbatical, even if it was dreadfully short notice, and open ended, but had he not come with the resignation, she'd most certainly have tried to talk him out of it. How had she forgotten, she chided herself, that Rodney McKay was not only a brilliant physicist, but a formidable strategist as well.

"Of course..." she replied, "I'll accept your sabbatical. It would be... appreciated, however, if you could let me know anything about your... plans?"

"Oh certainly," he replied with deceptive civility. "And you will naturally be telling me about all the calls _you've_ been making, the markers you've been calling in and from whom you've been calling them?"

Elizabeth snapped her mouth closed and let out a small, defeated sigh. If nothing else, this little exchange ought to give her confidence that those who would keep Rodney McKay from what he wanted had very little chance of succeeding. "Point taken," she conceded.

"Elizabeth," he said, his tone now surprisingly conciliatory. "I do respect your skills in this area, in fact I'm counting on them. Before this is over I'm fairly certain we're going to need them, but for now I think it's best that we work on separate tracks, yes?"

"It's not an unreasonable supposition," she said with a nod. "And it's not that I don't trust you. I do. It's just..." Elizabeth looked down at her hands. "I hate to see you go... even if it's only for a short time."

"I realize I'm indispensable everywhere," Rodney said airily as he stood, "and, um, I'll miss this place, and... you know, you guys... but I am coming back, and I'll be bringing Zelenka, Sheppard and Beckett with me. You can count on it."

Elizabeth wish she could feel so assured herself, but could not help worrying. "I will," she said, trying to sound as confident as Rodney did. "You just... be careful, alright."

"You too," Rodney replied as he paused in the doorway. "And, you know, don't sink the city while I'm gone, hm?"

"We'll do our best not to," Elizabeth answered him with a smile. If there was a bet to be made, she reflected, she'd place her money on Rodney McKay every time, but that did not mean she was free of doubts. She would just have to trust him, and do whatever she could to bring her people home again.

Rodney had done a fine job of preparing the science department for his departure, and Dr Parrish had come down to the gate room to briefly press something into Rodney's hand before he scurried off, but Ronon and Teyla were another matter. They had argued stridently against his going and then when they saw that wasn't going to fly they tried to argue that they should accompany him. They were still arguing now, as he waited in the gate room to be beamed up to the Daedalus.

"Look, it's Earth politics," he said, loud enough that Elizabeth could hear him in her office, though he stood in the center of the gate room. "There won't be anything for you to shoot at, or hit with sticks and, not to disparage your brilliant diplomatic skills, Teyla, but you don't know Earth politics, and especially Fae-Mortal politics. They're old and byzantine and illogical, and you kinda have to have grown up with them to understand them. I know you want to help, but you can help best by staying here and keeping the city safe."

"We promised Radek, and John," Teyla said, though Elizabeth could hear in her voice that she already knew she was not going to win this argument, "that we would keep you safe. You cannot tell us that there is no danger where you are going."

"No, I can't," Rodney replied, honestly enough. "But it's not the kind of danger you can protect me from, trust me. Here, on the other hand, I can practically guarantee that there will be things that need shooting at, or people that _you know_ who Elizabeth will need your help negotiating with or something, and you can't do that if you're following me around on Earth."

When there was no answering argument, Elizabeth stepped out of her office to observe Teyla and Rodney bending to touch foreheads in the Athosian fashion, and when they had drawn back Ronon slapped Rodney on the back hard enough to stagger him.

"Please convey our greetings to the others when you find them," Teyla said a little sadly.

"Yeah, and tell 'em to get their asses back here where they belong," Ronon followed up.

"Sure thing," Rodney said, still recovering from Ronon's gesture of affection. Then he signalled the Daedalus and in a flash of light, he was gone. Elizabeth made her way down to the gate room to join Teyla and Ronon, who remained there alone, and looking a little lost.

"Shouldn't have let him go alone," Ronon murmured, discontent.

"Yet he was not wrong, in his reasons for wanting us to stay," Teyla replied, glancing over at Elizabeth as though for confirmation.

"He has a plan," Elizabeth offered, for what it was worth. "We're just going to have to trust that he knows what he's doing." Because that's what it all came down to: trust. They'd all learned a lot about trust here on the Pegasus Galaxy -even Rodney- and it was what they would have to rely on now.

Teyla nodded sagely, and Elizabeth could see she agreed. "Then that is what we will do," she said, and there wasn't much else to say after that.

***

Rodney could have easily gone stir crazy over the two and a half week journey back to Earth on the Daedalus, had it not been for the work he'd agreed to do for Novak. She was, after all, going to be doing him an enormous, and rather vital favor, so it was only fair that he return it, though she insisted that it wasn't necessary.

Some years back Rodney had helped to settle a family dispute on Lieutenant Novak's behalf, as she was half Fae, and the Elvish branch of her family had wanted her to return to the Realms and marry a young man of notable family. Rodney had been the one to recruit her for the SGC and found her work to be well above that of the average idiots he was too often saddled with, but moreover, hated the idea of such family meddling.

They'd tried to force her, using an obscure aspect of Fae common law, but Rodney had, on his own behalf, made an extensive study of Fae law and compacts. He'd happily obliterated Novak's family's case, and made her the chief engineer on the Daedalus, neither of which acts he'd ever regretted.

Some in academia, Rodney knew, carefully cultivated a network of influential people who each owed them some debt or favor, but Rodney could never be bothered with such things. He made himself useful where he liked, and where he was needed, and whether someone had the wit to recognize the value of keeping in his good graces or not was nothing to do with him. Not anyone could manage their career with such an attitude, but Rodney McKay could and did.

To be honest, Rodney didn't much enjoy actually asking for such return favors (preferring to bully people into admitting that they ought to be offered without his having to ask), but the current circumstances had him ready to actually swallow his pride. Luckily, Lieutenant Lindsey Novak was an exceedingly agreeable person, and Rodney'd had to do little more than suggest that he might need a little assistance.

"Whatever you need, Dr McKay," had been her prompt response and Rodney had been so grateful he'd almost told her so. Together they'd cooked up a marginally believable cover story as to why Rodney needed to return to earth and come up with a truly useful yet challenging task for Rodney to spend his time on for the duration of his voyage.

As far as Rodney was concerned, the primary reason for his laborious fine tuning of the Daedalus' shield emitters was to keep himself from gnawing his own leg off (or something equally counter productive) while enduring the boredom of the long voyage, but it didn't hurt to keep Novak and the crew of the Daedalus in his good graces either. Eventually, Hermiod also introduced a challenge or two to occupy Rodney's time, though Rodney was never sure if the alien wasn't actually subtly dissing him or thought he was taking Rodney 'under his wing' so to speak. There was no way in hell that Rodney was going to ask him, though.

Another benefit of keeping himself gainfully occupied was that it helped stave off his inevitable growing nervousness as the end of their journey grew closer. Since Novak was his confederate in putting the Asgard transporter at his disposal, she became, by necessity, his confederate in the whole plan, which began with determining just exactly where Sheppard was being kept.

It was their good fortune that, in the battle between Sheppard's Clan leaders and the US military for his custody, the US military had won, for it meant that they could hack their computer network to find him. There they could also get all the information on the building where he was being held, and how it was staffed, and it made the likelihood of the mission going off well much better.

Of course, Sheppard would probably be thinking that he would rather be in the custody of his Clan leaders and family, as much as he hated them, because they weren't planning on exiling him to a life of unending gang warfare. That would be the almost certain result of his upcoming court martial for treason -scheduled to begin in two days- something else Rodney knew John truly dreaded.

Well, Rodney thought to himself as he donned the all black, insignia free outfit he would be wearing for Sheppard's jail break, if all went as planned, Sheppard would never get to that court martial. He still couldn't believe that Novak had talked him into wearing that balaclava. It made him feel like a dork, but she had made a convincing case that, even if everyone would assume that it was Rodney McKay who'd come to bust his team leader out of military prison, preventing them from being able to prove that fact easily could only work to their benefit.

He'd 'snuck' (no one had really looked) a wraith stunner in his bags when he left Atlantis, because he just wasn't as familiar with zats, and he was fairly convinced that the wraith stunners were a tad more humane. Rodney really didn't want to hurt anyone, certain that it would only make things worse for Sheppard, if for no other reason. He retrieved the stunner from under his bunk now and stood, catching himself in the small mirror over his 'dresser', and felt a stir of anxiety.

He could do this sort of thing with his team; there was never any doubt of that in Rodney's mind, but doing it alone was something new. He'd told himself (and everyone else) that he was more than capable of pulling this off. He'd learned from his years on the team, from Sheppard, Teyla and Ronon, but he found himself wishing now that he'd let the latter two talk him into including them.

But no, they'd never have agreed to stay behind if his reasoning hadn't been sound. Teyla and Ronon knew he could do this. Sheppard needed him to do this. He had a good plan and trustworthy help. Now it was time to man up and get it done. Stuffing the balaclava in his pocket, Rodney made his way to engineering, where Novak would be waiting for him.

The Daedalus kept its time in sync with the Eastern US, which was convenient for Rodney because he wished to conduct his jailbreak late at night, but also wished to move around the ship during graveyard shift, when fewer folks were about to comment on his strange attire, or wonder why Novak wished to clear engineering. Indeed, Rodney met no one in the corridors... until just outside engineering.

"Dr McKay?" Rodney felt his heart sink at the sound of Colonel Caldwell's distinctive baritone. "A word please?"

"I'm a little busy right now," he tried, even as he was fairly sure that this would cut no ice with the Daedalus' captain.

"I'm aware of that fact," Caldwell responded smoothly. "In fact, it's what I wanted to talk to you about."

"No, really," Rodney tried, feeling both pathetic and desperate, but it would only take Novak a second to beam him off the ship, if only he could get into engineering. He edged his way toward the door. "It'll only take a second, but I really have to get to it right now..."

Caldwell cut him off, blocking his way too easily. "Dr McKay, I've already sent Lt Novak back to her quarters." Damn, damn damn!! Rodney thought. What was he doing here, and what did he suspect? How much more trouble could he get into if he just stunned Caldwell?

"Novak?" he said, all but tasting the ashes of ruin, even as he spoke. "What's Novak got to do with anything?" Caldwell sighed.

"Why don't we just step into engineering for a moment," he said, "where we can chat privately, shall we?" It wasn't a request, and Rodney followed after him, a feeling of certain doom hanging over his every thought.

"I know what you were planning," Caldwell said, mercifully cutting to the chase, "and I don't want Novak involved."

"Why?" Rodney replied automatically and belligerent, as if he actually had a chance of changing Caldwell's mind.

"First," the captain answered directly, ticking off the points on his fingers, "because she's much too vital to the SGC and to this ship to let her career be damaged by involvement in something like this, and second... " he barred his teeth, just for a second, and Rodney saw a brief glimpse of unnaturally sharp canines, and possibly the faintest gleam of greenish luminescence in Caldwell's eyes, "because I have much more in common cause with Sheppard than she does."

For an unprecedentedly long moment, Rodney was actually speechless. Then he managed, "You...?"

"Rescuing Sheppard won't improve things for me or anyone else like us," Caldwell said, by way of an answer, "but it may move the debate forward, and if anyone deserves what they have planned for him, it isn't Sheppard. I'd like to say I did what I could, and if there are consequences, I'll bear them. It is my ship, after all."

"You..." Rodney began again, mind still reeling. Caldwell just laughed.

"Come on, McKay," he prodded. "Let's get this operation under way. We haven't got all night."

Slightly dazed with the magnitude of this discovery, Rodney shook himself and then stepped over to an open spot on the deck. "Right," he said, pulling himself together. "Hopefully this won't take more than a minute or two and you'll get my transponder signal when we're ready to beam up. You'll see it on your board right..." He moved to indicate the place but Caldwell waved him off.

"Novak briefed me," he said. "I know what you need me to do. All you need to worry about is finding Sheppard. Are you ready, McKay?"

Rodney frowned at how Caldwell could manage to sound both helpful and condescending at the same time, but he nodded, shouldering his ridiculous wraith stunner, and then remembering at the last second to don his balaclava. "Ready," he said at last, hoping he didn't sound as flustered as he felt.

"Good luck, McKay," Caldwell said, and then the Daedalus' engineering section disappeared in a flash of light and Rodney was standing in a bland, institutional corridor, lined with barred doors.

There was a guard at each end, as Rodney had known to expect, and he quickly fired the stunner at first one, then the other, just as he was calling out for Rodney to drop his weapon. Rodney glanced up at the number over the nearest door next, then jogged three doors down to where Sheppard should be, peering carefully through the bars of each window as he went.

Sheppard was there, looking out (as every prisoner was by now) and the balaclava did not fool him for an instant.

"Rodn...?" he began before Rodney could shut him up.

"Quiet!" he hissed loudly, jamming the small C4 charge into the lock. "And get away from the door!"

Sheppard looked skeptical but did as he was told and a moment later the door was open, the corridor filled with smoke, and an alarm was going off.

"Are you insane?!" Sheppard shouted over the alarm when Rodney beckoned him out. "What the hell do you thi..."

"Oh, shut up," Rodney said, fishing around in his pocket for the transponder. "Unless you can tell me one way in which this will make things any worse for you than they already are."

Sheppard opened his mouth, then bit is lip. "Okay, you may have a poi..."

"Thank you," Rodney snapped, thumb poised over the transponder. "Now take my hand."

Still looking skeptical, Sheppard did as he was told and Rodney activated the transponder. For a full second he considered the possibility that Caldwell meant to abandon them both, then he remembered that the man had shared with him a career killing secret, and in the next second the flash of light came and they were both aboard the Daedalus.

Rodney's first action was to get that gawdawful balaclava off, and when he had he saw Sheppard staring aghast at Caldwell.

"Si.." he began but the man waved him off. 

"Sheppard," he said, "or maybe I should say 'Greyling'? Or better yet," and he flashed that brief, revealing grin again, 'cousin'?"

Rodney took a fraction of a second to feel satisfaction at how Sheppard was rendered just as speechless as he had been at Caldwell's revelation.

"Yes, yes," Rodney said, gesturing imperiously. "Family reunions later. Right now we need to get to Radek. Since it's early spring in Eastern Europe, you'll probably want something warmer than that t-shirt, Sheppard."

There was a stack of warm clothing, boots and coats for both of them on the chair beside Caldwell, and a pair of packs which Rodney and Novak had filled with extra clothes, food and other useful gear, sat beside it. Caldwell handed the clothing over to Sheppard, who took it, casting a leery glance in the man's direction as he did.

"Surely you didn't imagine," Caldwell said with a smirk as Sheppard pulled on a heavy sweater, "that you were the only one of your... heritage to want something more in your life than you were told you could have?"

"Can't say I gave it much thought," Sheppard replied, just a little frostily, even as he accepted a handgun from the Daedalus' commander and slipped it into his thigh holster.

"You are, almost certainly, the highest caste Hunter ever to throw over the traces," Caldwell allowed, utterly unperturbed by Sheppard's cool tone. "I'm only a half blood myself," he admitted. "I can't imagine how it was for you to walk away from your legacy like that."

"Wasn't ever anything I wanted," Sheppard replied, meeting Caldwell's eyes at last. "Once I knew what it was I did want... well, I guess I was used to getting what I wanted... and not giving much thought to anyone else."

Rodney watched the two vampires regarding each other warily, unsurprised at Sheppard's prickly demeanor. Vampires are like cats, he'd been taught, and slow to warm to strangers of their own kind. In addition, Rodney knew that a vampire of Sheppard's high station would be uneasy at best at accepting a favor from a vampire of a lower position. As much as Sheppard believed that he had walked away from the whole of his heritage, Rodney knew that some things are not so easily discarded.

Once he'd gotten bundled up, Rodney moved to the work station where he could find Zelenka's transponder, hacking into the EU operated satellites that gave the best coverage of that part of the world. He found it soon enough, even with Caldwell looking over his shoulder.

"This is only going to get you to within a few miles of the signal," Caldwell pointed out unnecessarily. "You're going to have a bit of a hike, more than likely."

"Hence the cold weather gear and boots," Rodney snarked. "Are you ready, Sheppard?"

Sheppard stood, zipping his jacket and shouldering on the pack that had been prepared for him. "As I'll ever be." he replied.

"You're really going to walk into the heart of Wolf territory?" Caldwell asked, a note of real admiration in his tone, along with the insinuation that Sheppard was nuts.

"I'll be with him," Sheppard said, indicating Rodney with a thumb over his shoulder, "and he's with a Wolf." Caldwell's look clearly said that he still thought Sheppard had a screw loose.

"I suppose it would be about the last place anyone would think of looking for you," he admitted.

"All part of my brilliant plan," Rodney said, settling his pack on his back. "Now, are we ready? Chop, chop; no time to lose, Sheppard."

"Ready when you are, McKay," he said, not batting an eye. Caldwell rolled his, but moved to stand, nonetheless, behind the controls for the Asgard transport.

"Luck to both of you, whatever your plan is," he said, and Rodney's brief words of thanks were barely out of their mouth when the Daedalus' engineering section disappeared around them once again. Now the were in the middle of a pasture or field, near a small country road -forest and fields all around them. The air was chill, though the breeze carried the scents of spring, and there was a small sign up ahead upon which was printed nothing Rodney cared to try and pronounce.

"Welcome to the Czech Republic," Sheppard said, looking around. It was midday, the wide, pale blue sky fairly clear, and most of the mountains that could be seen on every horizon had traces of snow on top.

"Actually, we may be just over the border into Slovakia," Rodney informed him, studying the altered life signs detector he was using to track Radek. "Or possibly even Poland. Radek told me that the Wolves in these parts tend to pretty much ignore international boundaries."

"Great," Sheppard said with a sigh. "Does that mean it's going to be even harder to find him?"

"Not at all," Rodney replied. "No one's ever been able to control the borders here much at all, even during the Communist era. We just go where this tells us to, and we'll find him. We probably won't run into many people at all."

"And if we do," Sheppard said, following after Rodney as he headed across the field toward the road, "I'm betting they're not likely to speak any English."

"Probably not," Rodney agreed, "and they're probably not used to seeing many foreigners here either. Radek told me that this area is mainly little mountain villages where they don't tend to be too friendly to strangers."

"Great, so what you're telling me is that we're headed for a Czech version of "Deliverance"? Sheppard quipped.

"No, Colonel," Rodney replied with a sigh, rolling his eyes. "As I'm pretty sure we're not going to find one around here who plays the banjo." Behind him, Rodney could hear Sheppard laugh.

 

They walked the whole day, pausing around mid afternoon in a sunny meadow fringed with large, flat boulders, to make a lunch from some of the provisions in their packs. Rodney's scanner showed them making progress, but it was seldom possible to approach their goal in a straight line, as the mountain roads zigged and zagged across the map and both Rodney and Sheppard agreed that cutting straight across the terrain would probably be a bad idea.

As the shadows lengthened all around them, and the chill of the day began to deepen, Rodney could all but feel Sheppard not asking how much longer Rodney thought they would have to walk. Rodney was reluctant to venture an estimate, as every time they got to a stretch of road that seemed to take them directly toward Radek's signal, it would veer off to the right or left after a mile or two.

"So," Sheppard seemed to finally succumb to the desire to gripe. "I didn't look to see if Novak packed us a tent and sleeping bags..."

"No, she didn't," Rodney snapped, "Because we won't need them. If we have to keep walking into the night for a little bit..."

"On these narrow, winding mountain roads," Sheppard interjected, "that are so far into the middle of nowhere that no one even knows what _country_ we're in..."

"Even if," Rodney reinserted himself forcefully, "we have to walk in the dark for a little bit, we'll still find him before too long, and I for one would rather sleep indoors, and in a bed."

"That's assuming he has either one of those things," Sheppard muttered. Rodney ignored him.

They paused once again for a cold snack just as the sun was setting. At one point, a little while later, they did see the lights of what looked like a little country inn or pub, but neither one of them had any local money (or money of any sort, for that matter) and besides, the place lay in the opposite direction from where they ought to go. Still it was hard to turn away from the first sign of civilization they had seen all day, and head back into the dark, forbidding forest.

For an hour they toiled their way up a steep incline, on a road that was no more than packed gravel, and then stopped to catch their breaths when the road brought them to a crest on a mountain ridge. There was something of a spectacular view, though Rodney was too busy catching his breath to take it in at first. Sheppard's comment drew his attention to it.

"Oh crap," he said. "I'm a dead man."

"What?" said Rodney. "Why?"

"The fucking moon," Sheppard replied. "It's full."

Of course, Rodney realized. That was _why_ the view was so spectacular, as the full moon, rising over a ridge behind them, now illuminated the whole valley that lay before them. Even as he took in the sight they heard a single wolf howl in the distance, shortly answered by several others from different locations all around them, not all so far away.

"So very, very dead," Sheppard said in a resigned voice.

"Not gonna let that happen," Rodney said, wishing he sounded surer of himself than he probably did. "I'm with Radek and you're with me. We should both be fine."

"And you're going to explain this to them how?" Sheppard asked. "Sign language? Charades?"

"Wolves communicate by smell, Sheppard," Rodney said, nervous and exasperated. "They'll be able to smell that I'm Radek's mate, and I won't have to say a word in any language."

"Yeah, and they'll be able to smell that _I'm_ their worst enemy, McKay," Sheppard said. "I'm gonna have my throat ripped out before I can say a word in any language."

Before Rodney could come up with anything like a witty rejoinder, a new voice, howling out its location, much closer than before, intruded into their conversation.

"Crap," said Rodney, which, admittedly, wasn't very witty at all, and he moved to walk very close at Sheppard's side.

"Please tell me he's not much farther," Sheppard said in a low voice.

"He's not!" Rodney insisted. "And this road is actually taking us right toward him... for now."

"And is he moving around a lot?" Sheppard asked suspiciously.

"Um... a little," Rodney admitted. Of course, if the moon was full, Radek would definitely be in his wolf form... but then he might be more likely to sense his mate's presence in that form as well which, Rodney considered, might be for the best.

"You know, though, it might not be such a bad thing," Rodney pointed out,  
"if he finds us before we find him."

"How's that?" Sheppard asked, sounding not at all convinced.

"Well, because if we are, in fact, on pack territory on a full moon," Rodney replied, "then some pack members are going to find us before very long, and if Radek happens to be with them, then we have a solution to that explaining problem. If he's not..."

"Right, right..." Sheppard said with a sigh. "Remind me again why I'm not better off safely locked in a prison cell?"

"Oh, I don't know," Rodney snapped, losing patience. "Maybe because they're not going to court martial you here?"

"No, no," Sheppard replied, matching Rodney's sarcasm ounce for ounce. "They're just going to rip my guts out and play tug-of-war with them, _while I watch!_ " He froze then, whirling to look towards a stand of trees to their left, and reaching for his sidearm.

"Crap!" he said, suddenly much quieter. "We're not alone here, Rodney."

"What?" Rodney cried, feeling an instant of panic, then tamping it down forcefully. "No, no, of course not, but that's fine. That's to be expected. We're not their enemies -not in the least." He said this last a bit more loudly, but then dropped to a hissing whisper as he turned back to Sheppard to say, "And for god's sake, keep your hands away from your gun!"

Rodney could see Sheppard's unhappy frown, his face deeply shadowed in the moonlight, but he did as Rodney instructed, albeit reluctantly. Then they continued walking.

Rodney was reluctant to actually say anything, lest he jinx them (and he was going to have to burn all three of his doctoral diplomas if he was going to admit to believing in jinxes), but it did look as if this road was going to continue on in the direction of Radek's transponder signal for some distance. Of course, even as he thought this, Rodney saw Radek's signal begin to move at some speed... but it seemed to be moving toward them, for now anyhow.

This could be exactly what Rodney had predicted would happen, but he refrained from comment, not so much because of jinxes, but because of how stupid he would look if he later proved to be wrong. He walked on in silence, therefore, and Sheppard did the same, keeping close and looking anxiously from side to side. Even Rodney could hear the sounds of something, or someone, moving through the brush on either side of the road, and unless his imagination was being even more over active than usual, the number of those someones was increasing.

When their road (and that was a generous assessment, Rodney thought) moved out of the forest and into an area of fields and pastures, their escort continued along with them. It was undoubtedly their leader who emerged from the cover of the woods first, his gray fur showing nearly silver in the moonlight. Others soon followed, however, and by the time they had left the forest behind them they could see at least a dozen wolves, striding along on either side of them, behind them and preceding them on the road.

They continued along together, the road carrying them down a long slope, until they reached something like a valley floor, with a dark line snaking across it which Rodney deduced to be some sort of river or stream. Where their road met it, it split, the main branch veering right to follow the river's right bank, and a smaller proceeding across a small bridge. Their escort made it clear that they were to cross the bridge.

Sheppard remained silent but Rodney could all but see the thought balloon hanging over his head, containing the words, 'We are so very fucked.' He tried to project his own, holding the words, 'We're going to be fine, you moron,' but he feared he lacked the conviction.

Rodney hadn't glanced at his scanner for some time, figuring that there was no point, really, and he almost did when he heard the rapidly running footsteps coming toward them at considerable speed from up ahead on the road. He almost did, but then realized that he didn't need to, because he already knew in his heart who it had to be. This did not mean, however, that Rodney was spared his moment of stark terror when said rapidly galloping wolf barrelled through the leading members of their escort, and leaped at him with the full force of his momentum.

Rodney gave an utterly undignified shriek as he was struck full on by the heavy body of a wolf he knew even in the uncertain light, and then he was on his back, with the creature straddling his chest and licking his face with unbridled enthusiasm. Rodney found himself making a series of choked squawks before he could make any words come out.

"Radek, you lunatic!" he finally managed, turning his head in a hopeless attempt to avoid further licking. Radek did relent after another moment, sitting back and taking hold of Rodney's sleeve in his mouth to urge him upright.

"Ow," Rodney protested half-heartedly, though he was sure that there would be bruises on his chest from where Radek had hit him, and on his back from landing on his back pack full of supplies, not all of which were soft. Then he couldn't help himself and leaned forward to pull the wolf he loved into his arms and squeeze him tight.

"God, I've missed you, you big idiot," he said into a face full of fur. Radek gave a wolfish laugh and nipped his ear. He pulled free of Rodney's arms then and resumed his grip on his sleeve, pulling back to help him to his feet, after a fashion. Rodney made sure to made a great show of dusting himself off and inspecting his new bruises while Sheppard looked on and laughed.

"You know, I've seem my share of touching reunions, McKay..." he began as they started down the road again.

"Oh, shut up," Rodney interrupted, before he could really rub Rodney's nose in it. "And may I point out," he added, poking Sheppard in the shoulder with said pointing finger, "not dead, either."

"Not, yet," Sheppard replied, looking uneasily at the sizable escort still accompanying them.

Rodney gave a dismissive snort, glancing down at the familiar form of the sliver and brown wolf trotting close at his side. Radek wouldn't let them harm Sheppard, he was sure of it, but what he didn't know was how much trouble it would make for Radek. If Radek was already in trouble with his pack... well, these were things Rodney didn't really know about, but surely if they meant to harm Sheppard they'd have made a move in that direction already.

There would be no answers to these questions until their new friends, and Radek, could talk, Rodney was fairly certain. For now he would hold on to the fact that they were in the company of _a_ friend, if not multiple friends, and wait for his answers come morning.

It was another fifteen or so minutes walking before they came to some sign of civilization. Three cars and a pickup truck were parked at the side of the road and they turned off here, following a narrow track through a crumbling, if once ornate gateway, to see a happily blazing campfire in front of what appeared to have been, at one time, a grand estate of some sort.

In the fickle, silvery light of the moon, it appeared to be little more than an abandoned hulk, with too many darkened, unglazed windows and only the faintest glimmer of light -not electric- showing from one. From what Rodney could see, the building had, at one time, been quite splendid, covered in stucco decoration and ornaments, but now many were damaged or missing, and the stucco flaked away in a multitude of places, to reveal bare brick and stone.

The building was intimidating, but the fire beckoned, and Rodney did not need the prompting of their escort to make his way toward it. A single wolf, older, Rodney guessed by the grey around its muzzle, had been keeping watch there and stood as they approached, stretched and then touched noses with the silver wolf who'd come with them. Rodney and John were now prodded forward toward the benches that ringed the fire and they both sat gratefully, shedding their packs and stretching their hands out to soak in the fire's warmth.

There followed some sort of discussion which consisted of subtle woofs and wolfish body language among their hosts and at its conclusion the majority of their escort departed. Radek, the silver one and a couple of young and lean looking individuals remained as the others melted silently off into the night. Radek nudged Rodney's leg and directed his attention to what seemed to be a coffee pot, perched near the edge of the fire. He reached toward it tentatively.

When no one interfered, Rodney pulled his sleeve over his hand to protect it and took hold of the handle, giving the pot an experimental slosh. Sheppard was already extracting a couple of cups from their packs and holding one out for Rodney to pour a moment later. The brew was bitter, too strong and a trifle scorched, but Rodney didn't care, ignoring Radek's wolfish laugh as he made a not quite dignified sound over the first searingly hot swallow.

"Um... thanks?" he ventured after a moment, feeling the need to be as polite as possible but stymied by the certainty that his host could not reply, and might not understand his words in the first place. There was an exchange of huffs and twitched ears between Radek and the older, gray-muzzled wolf and Rodney came to the conclusion that anything important would be translated, and so relaxed a little. Sheppard made his own grateful sounds over his coffee, and then returned to their packs to extract a couple of very welcome MREs.

Rodney gave another glance around at their silent hosts before he dug in, finally succumbing to the impulse to check in again, verbally. "It's okay if we, um, eat something, right? 'Cause we've been, like, walking all day, and um..." Radek's head butt to Rodney's knee was a clear sign that he was overdoing it, but he scowled at him just the same, then tucked into his food with enthusiasm.

When their repast was done, and the remains that could be burned consigned to the fire, Radek lead them into the dark and somewhat foreboding house. There was an oil lamp sitting on a table a little ways back from the fire and Radek gestured for them to take it as they went in. The table itself, Rodney noted now, was covered with tools and scraps of wood and tile, which gave him his first clue about what was really happening here -when the moon wasn't full.

Inside, they made their way around piles of insulation, boxes of tiles and wood flooring, and other signs of a restoration in progress, as Radek lead them up what was once surely a magnificent staircase, to the second floor. Maneuvering down the hall around an enormous stack of new windows, they came to a doorway closed with a heavy curtain, rather than a door (as none of the rooms Rodney could see in this hallway seemed to have doors) and followed Radek through it.

There was a hook to hang the lantern near the door, and its warm light was now cast over a couple of ramshackle wardrobes, a desk with a closed laptop on it, and on the floor, a single mattress strewn with disordered blankets. On the far wall, sitting up on bricks over the badly neglected parquet floor, with its chimney leading out a partially boarded up window, sat what had to be a small wood stove -a pile of neatly cut wood stacked next to it. Radek lead them there now, nudging a small pail, filled with tinder and matches, with his nose.

Motivated though they were, the design was unfamiliar to both Rodney and Sheppard, and it took the two of them, with much bickering, more than 20 minutes to figure out how to get the thing going. Radek sat back and laughed silently the whole time. Once they had gotten the fire lit, however, he showed Sheppard where he could get another mattress and some blankets, and even helped drag everything into their room.

The fire warmed the room surprisingly quickly, so that by the time Sheppard had set his bed up it was easily comfortable enough to dress down for bed, and Rodney was more than ready for it. He was more than happy to let Radek, doggy breath and all, crawl under the blankets beside him as well, and even laid an arm over his furry body as they curled together. Sheppard had taken the lamp down to sit beside his bed, and extinguished it when they had all said their good nights.

Settling comfortably in the dark, feeling the bed warm around him, Rodney reflected that he'd never shared a bed with Radek in his wolf form before. For the most part this was because on Atlantis, when the moon was full, Radek always made the most of his monthly bout of wildness, and seldom came to bed till dawn. Rodney often stayed up on those nights as well, sometimes with Radek, out on some distant pier, or on the mainland, or just working alone in his labs because without Radek to share it, he found his bed too lonely. In the weeks since Radek had left, Rodney had not had one really good night's sleep.

And in spite of the fact that the form was unfamiliar, there remained in Rodney's heart the unshakable certainty that it was Radek. The being snuggled against him _felt_ like Radek, for all the sense that didn't make, and it was all Rodney needed to relax as he hadn't for weeks. Content in his reunion, Rodney sighed deeply as he curled around his wolf lover, and fell into the arms of Morpheus with soul deep gratitude.

 

The first rays of dawn coming in the un-curtained window might have woken Rodney, even if the changing form of his lover in his arms hadn't. It all made for a relatively gradual wakening, and when he woke entirely to the realization of the warm and considerably less furry being beside him, one of the most pleasant awakenings of his life. There was one constant in the transformation, however, as Radek's nose remained cold where it was pressed up against his throat... although at least now it was dry.

"Dobrě ráno," Radek murmured against his neck, lifting his head then to kiss Rodney on the mouth. The taste of his lover's mouth woke Rodney the rest of the way up, and all the longing he'd felt over the last few weeks came surging back. Rodney deepened the kiss, rolling to free his hands and take Radek's head between them. Gods he'd missed this, Rodney thought, letting a little moan escape.

"'Morning, guys," came Sheppard's voice from just across the room. Rodney had, of course, entirely forgotten his presence.

"Oh, um... Sheppard," Rodney faltered. "'Morning...?" Beside him, Radek gave a quiet chuckle.

"You know," Sheppard said after an awkward pause and a sigh, "maybe I'll just go for a run. That gonna bother anybody?"

"Should not be problem," Radek said, half sitting up. "They will be making coffee downstairs, and breakfast, which you may help yourself to, but only Jakub speaks any English."

"Okay, thanks," Sheppard replied, climbing out of bed and stepping into his shoes. "See you guys downstairs."

Rodney watched him go, then turned back to Radek, his familiar, furry torso half revealed above the duvet and seeming to glow a bit in the morning sun. The sun was warm, but the air in the bedroom was chill and Rodney tackled his lover to pull him back under the covers.

"Gods, I cannot believe I let you go," Rodney murmured, drawing his mate close and immersing himself in his warm, animal scent. "We are so never letting that happen again."

"Mmmm," Radek replied, kissing his way down Rodney's body. "I suppose I must concede this point."

Rodney was composing a smug rejoinder when Radek's still cold nose was pressed against his nipple. "Gahh!" he yelped. "You're human now; why is your nose still so cold?"

"There are laws of thermodynamics, you know," Radek replied archly. "I change only form, not mass and not temperature." He punctuated his point with a nip to Rodney's nipple, eliciting another yelp from Rodney.

"You little freak," he said, not without affection. "You just think you're so clever."

"I know I am so clever," Radek refuted, reaching down to fondle Rodney's already hard cock through his boxers. "After all, I am already naked, whereas you, miláček, still retain some impediments."

"Hello, just waking up!" Rodney replied, scrambling to pull his t-shirt off and getting lost in the process halfway when Radek slipped his hand inside Rodney's boxers and squeezed. "Not helping!" he yelped.

"You want help, miláčku?" Radek said innocently. "You only had to ask."

To be fair, Radek did help get Rodney's boxers off, which was a good thing because it was taking much too long to get his t-shirt off. Then, at last, he was entirely naked with his arms full of an equally naked Radek, and he wanted to touch everything with everything. Radek seemed to be keen on helping with that too, though their efforts might have stood a bit more coordination.

Eventually they found themselves face to face under the covers, limbs tangled, Rodney's mouth slowly sucking what would soon be a fine mark on Radek's collar bone and Radek's warm, nimble fingers wrapped around both their cocks. "Fuck..." Rodney groaned as Radek smeared precum along the hard flesh in his hand, slicking them both as he stroked. "I'm not going to last at all if you keep doing that."

"Pfft!" Radek replied with a chuckle. "There was never any chance of that. Later, when we have time, we take time. Now, we take what we want." He punctuated this remark with a hard nip under Rodney's ear which he knew would leave a mark.

"Ow!" Rodney complained. "You little... oh fuck." And then Rodney consigned himself to following Radek's advice and tangled his own fingers with Radek's, slick with precum as he joined him in stroking their cocks together. Their lovemaking soon became all but mindless, hips thrusting against one another as hard flesh was pressed against hard flesh, a slick, rhythmless rhythm building between them.

Their mouths found one another as the climax loomed, tongues thrusting into moist heat, consuming each other's cries when the ecstasy broke over them like a wave. The kiss lingered as their pleasure ebbed, holding them together through the last shudders of their mutual completion, until the laxity of satiation let them gradually fall away.

Both their hands were sticky with cum, but neither minded as they drew each other into a joyful and grateful embrace. Rodney listened to both their hearts gradually slow as he lay beside his lover, and little by little, the realities of the outside world, and his own mild discomforts, began to creep in.

From below came the sounds of muffled conversation and the smells of breakfast, and from outside the crash of lumber being moved and dropped. Eventually the sound of a power saw shattered the last vestiges of peaceful quiet, and Rodney decided that he really did have to pee. "I know better," he said with a sigh, "than to ask if there is an actual flush toilet anywhere around here, don't I?"

"You do," Radek replied with a smile, "because you are a genius. There is actually a... chamber pot, of sorts, in the corner over there, if your need is urgent, or there is a pit toilet outside, around the back of the house, or you can just go... water a tree like everyone else, if that is all you need."

Rodney sat up, grumbling as he rummaged around in the covers for his boxers. "Any particular tree?" he asked as he pulled them on.

"Pretty much any tree on the property," Radek said. "We drink a lot of beer here, you know, and it's better to spread it around than have it all concentrated in one place."

Eventually Radek accompanied him to where they could water adjacent trees and then showed him where there was a table with a washbasin, some soap and a towel set near the stream side. After their ablutions they made their way to the kitchen and here Rodney's formal introduction to Radek's pack began.

It was odd how the place that had seemed so haunting and mysterious the night before seemed so prosaic and normal now. They made their way around various tools and construction debris as they approached the house, greeting the handful of young men already working there, then around the back and up a set of crumbling concrete steps to enter by a smaller door than the grand front entrance they'd used last night.

Here was a noisy, bustling and scent filled kitchen/dining room, a plump, gray-haired matron presiding over a wood stove with various cooking processes underway before her, and a handful of younger women assisting her. Some worked at food prep or washing up on the cracked linoleum counter to her left, while others carried food to and from the table, around which sat a double handful of men and boys, and Sheppard, all eating, talking (Czech, of course), drinking, and in one case, smoking a pipe.

Rodney could smell the pipe, along with frying meat (possibly ham!), fresh bread, coffee and garlic, and Rodney found himself both starved and slightly overwhelmed. Then Radek was saying, "Coffee, yes?" and making some request in lightning quick Czech and a moment later Rodney had a cup of coffee in his hands and all was right with the world.

He was introduced to the matron first, who, it turned out, had been the older wolf guarding the fire last night, and of near equal importance in the pack social structure as the pack leader. This was Jakub, the sliver haired older gentleman who was just now sitting beside Sheppard and conversing with him. While the women had clucked over him, pinching and prodding him like some bit of produce Radek had just purchased, the men sized him up with steady gazes which reminded Rodney that these men at the breakfast table had been their escorts on the road last night.

"Welcome to our pack, Dr McKay," Radek's pack leader said, shaking his hand. "I am Jakub Šenkířyk, Radek's pack leader, as I'm sure you have concluded already. Your mate speaks of you highly, as he should, but I see that he has not misjudged. I am pleased."

"Um... thank you," Rodney said, struggling a bit with how to graciously accept a compliment. The plate of food that arrived a moment later came as a welcome distraction. Sheppard kept the conversation going on the non controversial topic of the restoration currently going on around them as they ate and when they were done the four of them made their way over to a sunny side porch where they sat around a table littered with beer bottles and much worn playing cards.

Jakub cleared them a space at the table, then went to a cupboard and extracted an unmarked bottle containing a clear liquid, and four shot glasses.

"Is necessary, for proper welcoming into pack," Jakub explained as he poured them each a measure. "And it may make the conversation we must have now go a little easier."

This Jakub, Rodney thought, regarding the liquor in his glass, was a perceptive fellow, though there was nothing surprising in that. He was pack leader after all, and probably rather a bit older than he looked. He tossed the glass back, and then gasped a bit. The liquor was smooth, remarkably so, but really, very, very strong. He felt better to see Sheppard blinking hard as he knocked his back.

"You, ah, make this yourself, do you?" Sheppard guessed.

"My brother in law, Antonin," Jakub confirmed with a pleased smile. "But it is considered a family legacy, and the plums are from all of our gardens." There followed a slightly awkward silence in which Rodney realized that they were more or less waiting for him, so he sighed and set down his glass.

"So, um, speaking of gardens... sort of," he began clumsily, "which is to say, the rest of the plan, for us, rather hinges on a, ah, sort of a small favor we would need from you... sir." Rodney directed this toward the pack leader, hoping that he'd come off as respectful rather than obsequious.

"Jakub," the man pronounced his name 'Yah-koob', indicating himself, "please. What favor would you ask?"

"Um, well, Jakub," Rodney nodded. "I'm assuming that you, and your people, know this area well, and might be able to tell us the location of the nearest threshold... into the Realms."

Jakub nodded thoughtfully, frowning as he did. "There are several in these mountains. This is a place where the curtain between the two Realms is thin, but to cross that threshold is forbidden to us, as it is to his kind." The old Wolf nodded in Sheppard's direction, but there was no hostility in his voice or gesture.

"It's forbidden for me too," Rodney replied, relaxing as he got to the heart of his plan, "but I've found a loophole... an exception to the rules that applies to all three of us."

Now all three of them were staring at Rodney, expressions of shock and disbelief on their faces. "What exception is this, Rodney?" Radek asked.

"Legal business," Rodney answered succinctly. "Carson is going to be convicted of having a 'fallen nature' if no one shows up at his trial to testify otherwise. As far as I've been able to learn, no one else is available and qualified to speak on just what he's been doing for the past few years, and without that information the elders are only going to hear whatever fear-mongering that's been cooked up against him -unless we come and speak up."

A thoughtful and slightly astonished silence fell over the table for a few moments,and then Sheppard finally spoke up. "Is that really going to do the trick? They're really going to let us in, just to do that?"

"They have to," Rodney asserted. "Any full blooded fae, or any citizen of the Realms -which I still am, regardless of my exile status- has a right to testify in any legal proceeding in which they've had any meaningful involvement. We've all three worked with Carson for years. He's saved both your lives, for Hermes' sake."

"Yours too," Radek added quietly. Rodney nodded. 

More contemplative silence followed, and then Jakub said, to Radek, "Does he know the prophecies, wolfling?"

"I don't deal in prophecies," Rodney said curtly, before Radek could reply. "Don't read them, don't care about them."

"There is your answer," Radek said with a wry smile.

"What prophecies?" Sheppard asked.

The two wolves exchanged glances and Rodney stood with a sigh. "Nature calls. You three can waste all the time you want sharing fairy tales while I'm gone."

Rodney could not help stewing slightly as he made his way to the outhouse Radek had shown him earlier. He hated the very idea of prophecies, certain down to his bones that he lived a life of free choices, not a life predetermined by some destiny. Still, he had also lived all his life under a cloud of prophecies, related to why had had been taken as a changeling.

His fathers had never told him why they had stolen him, only that they were moved by love alone, but others had felt no compunction at sharing their theories for why his abduction had been allowed. There were any number of grand predictions Rodney might find himself fulfilling, and one of them did indeed involve the ending of the exile for Wolves and Vampires, but Rodney refused to let such forecasts guide him.

He knew what he was doing and why he was doing it, and every one of his decisions were based on rational principles. Carson was in trouble, and this was the best way he could think of helping him. He wasn't going to deny that he'd do whatever he could -within reason- to end his own exile, and that of his friends, and if that happened to be a side effect of what he did to save Carson, so be it, but no so-called prediction of future events was guiding him. Rodney McKay was master of his own destiny; he would not have it any other way.

When Rodney returned from washing up a second round of shots had been poured, "For luck in our future endeavors," Radek explained. Rodney had no objection whatsoever to this and so steeled himself and swallowed down the fiery beverage.

"Tak," Jakub said when they had all set their glasses down. "I can take you to the nearest threshold, but it will not open for any of us..."

"Unless one of us should happen to posses a passkey," Rodney said, fishing the talisman Parrish had given him from under his shirt.

"This'll get us in the door," he said, "and then we'll have to make our case to whoever is guarding it, but the law is on our side." This was certainly true, but what Rodney knew better than anyone else at the table was that law in the Fae Realms is nowhere near so cut and dried as it is among mortals. They would have to make their case with conviction, as well as facts, but Rodney had no shortage of either.

The three of them made quick work of packing up, though Radek had a few affairs to settle before he left, and the disposition of some of his belongings which he wasn't going to take with him, such as his laptop. Radek made these arrangements with Jakub while Rodney and John waited out front by the fire pit, enjoying one last cup of coffee. They looked up as the Radek and his pack leader approached, still conversing together in their native tongue, and then focused their attention when the older Wolf spoke once again in English.

"Now, Wolfling," he said, "there is one last honor I would share with you before you depart." He lifted his chin then, turning his head to one side as he did to expose his throat to Radek. Radek's eyes went wide with astonishment.

"Pane..." he stammered, even as Rodney worked out what the pack leader must be implying.

"Never," Jakub said, lowering his head just so that his gaze met Radek's, "have our kind ever known such a pack as the one you have gathered, but it is a pack, nonetheless, and I would have the honor of being the first to acknowledge it, and you, pack leader." He lifted his head again when he finished, insisting even as he made this gesture of submission.

Rodney had never seen Radek look so completely undone, but he completed the ritual as required, stepping into the older wolf's personal space to place his teeth, ever so gently, over the exposed jugular. He stepped back a pace a moment later to lift his chin in kind, and the gesture was returned, followed by a kiss on both cheeks and some comment in Czech that had Radek blushing bright red.

"Way to go, pack leader!" Sheppard said as Radek rejoined him, slapping him on the back enthusiastically. Radek just shook his head.

"Never..." he said, still sounding a bit gobsmacked. "Never in my life did I ever expect to achieve such things."

"He's not wrong, though," Rodney said, pleased beyond words to see his lover so honored, as they stood and made to follow Jakub through the gate and onto the road.

"I suppose..." Radek said, looking back and forth between his two 'pack members'. "I suppose not."

Unsurprisingly, Jakub set a brisk pace which Rodney might have complained about had they been among different company. They left the road before very long and, after a little under an hour's trekking across country, came to a picturesque rock outcropping (not the first they had passed, by any means). Rodney could almost sense the presence of the threshold himself, the air nearly vibrating with the nearness of the other world. The separation between the Realms was almost negligible here; Jakub had been right about that.

When Rodney clutched the 'passkey' tightly in his fist he could see that what looked like it might be a path between two boulders really was one, though it did not lead anywhere in this Realm. This would be their path then. He reached for Radek's hand, the talisman pressed between their two palms, and reached for Sheppard with his free hand. Jakub said something in Czech as Rodney lead them all forward -he hoped it was 'good luck' or something like it- and then they were leaving one world and standing on the threshold of another.

Where they stood now appeared to be the middle of a twilit thicket, with a neutral, starless sky above and dense bushes all around. Rodney knew that there was actually nothing above or around them, and that they stood in a vestibule of sorts. Their passkey had gotten them this far, but now he would have to state their business before a sentry.

The sentry was a bored looking satyr, sporting leather armor and carelessly gesturing with the spear in his hand, who appeared from out of the brush a moment after they had entered.

"Exiles," he said, crossing his arms as he stood before them. "You do not have leave to go further."

"We have business," Rodney countered, mimicking the creature's gesture.

"There is no possible way," the satyr all but sneered, "that the likes of you... and especially the two of you," he glowered disdainfully at Radek and Sheppard, "can have any proper business here."

"No, that's not what you say," said Rodney, without batting an eye. "When I say, 'we have business,' you say, 'what business?'"

There was a moment of icy silence, and then the sentry said, "What business?"

"My self and my two colleagues here demand the right to speak in the finding for Carson Beckett, as witnesses. We were his close coworkers for over three years, and are fully entitled to make this claim."

There was another, longer and even icier silence.

"How can you possibly imagine," the sentry finally said, "that you, of all people, and these... dark children, these misbegottens..."

"Hold your tongue, Teremus," came a loud voice from outside the thicket. "All the Makers' children are equally beloved of the Makers; it is a dangerous folly to think otherwise."

Rodney thought he might have once met the petite, coal colored centaur who entered the thicket now and came to stand beside Teremus, the satyr, with a disapproving look. Perhaps she was one of Carson's cousins. He seemed to have quite a number of them. This would seem to be, at any rate, a fantastic stroke of luck.

"Shendii, you can't mean to say that you would let them pass?" Teremus cried. "They are exile; their whole kind are exile, for countless generations."

"In fact, I can," she replied. "And I will insist that they do. This is an important finding, concerning grave matters, and no other witnesses have come forward."

"You are mad," the satyr said through clenched teeth, giving way so that Rodney, Sheppard and Zelenka could all come to stand before Shendii. "And you will be remembered for what you've let happen here."

"Follow me," the centaur said, ignoring the satyr completely, and as they followed the thick branches opened before them. A moment later they were standing at the edge of a wood, a wide, emerald green meadow, speckled with wildflowers, stretching out before them over low rolling hills.

Rodney was home again.

It felt funny to think that, now, because Atlantis really was home for him, and he didn't want any other, but this was the home he'd grown up in, and while he remembered how beautiful it was, he couldn't have possibly remembered how... otherly it felt here. Sheppard and Radek were both standing, staring around with their mouths open, but Rodney set his smirk aside for later.

"Oh my gods," he turned to address Shendii now. "Thank you so much. You have no idea how fortuitous your arrival was."

"Actually, I do know," she said with a grin. "I sought a guidance, on Carson's behalf, in the sacred grotto last night, and I was told to come here. I think may I even remember you from... a while ago. You're the changeling, right? Rodemy?"

This completely cracked Radek and Sheppard up, and broke them out of their entranced daze.

"It's 'Rodney'," said Rodney, glowering a bit, "and you're one of Carson's cousins, aren't you?"

"That I am," she said, beckoning them to follow again as she headed out across the meadow. "And you're a quick one. I remember that too. We need to step lively, gentlebeings. The finding is already underway."

The finding would be taking place in the Athenian Grove, as most such findings did. Rodney had been there a few times before, as a boy, with his father, Parthenius, the scholar. His other father, Phinnisti, had been a musician, and taken him to hear every kind of music, in a bewildering variety of places. They were both fauns (he'd called them 'Pa' and 'Pha' as a child) and only now did Rodney wonder if he might see one or both of them here.

The entrance to the Grove was guarded, but Shendii was evidently known, or possibly even expected. The guards let them pass, but stared openly at Sheppard and Radek, wide eyed with astonishment. Rodney restrained himself from asking them if they hadn't been taught that it was rude to stare, and composed his testimony in his head instead.

As soon as they entered the grove Rodney cast about, trying to spot Carson, and he was not hard to find, though he was not the only centaur there. He stood at the back, flanked by two bored looking guards, while other members of his clan stood nearby. Before them was a long, raised dais, on which nine elders, of various races, sat at a long table. One was standing just now, apparently interrupted by their entrance, for he glowered darkly in their direction.

"Forgive the intrusion," Shendii address the elders, "but I have come with witnesses."

"We have not called for further witnesses," replied the speaker, an elf of highborn family, Rodney guessed from his manner. "We have all the evidence we need."

"I beg to differ," said a small figure wearing scholar's black, rising from where he had been sitting at one end of the table. It was, of course, Parthenius. Rodney should have known. "You have provided fulsome quantities of evidence regarding the subject's researches, Honored Elder, but no witnesses regarding his actual character at all. I would fervently advise this council not to arrive at any conclusion without hearing testimony to this end."

"I do not disagree," said an aged gnome, sitting beside the elf. "And I for one am very interested to hear what these three gentlebeings have to say. When you have finished your presentation, of course, Jerimus."

The look that passed between the elf and the gnome suggested to Rodney that this cordiality was entirely pretense, but the other elders at the table nodded, some in earnest, others with reluctant scowls.

"Very well," said the elf, with poor grace. "If I may continue with my conclusion?" Everyone at the table nodded, and Rodney, Radek and Sheppard were lead to an open space on a bench near the front.

"This stray son of the Beckett clan," Jerimus began as the three of them settled, "had the freedom to choose the direction and content of his research, thus revealing the debased nature of his desires. To investigate these most sacred, most mysterious, and most dangerous acts of the First Makers is to demonstrate at best, an incautious nature, and at worst, a desire for overweening power. It is a choice no free being of honest or decent character would make."

Rodney had more than once wished that he really did have a 'glare of death' -as he had often heard said about him- but never more than now. Behind the dais, he could see Carson looking absolutely devastated, and his clan leader, a resolute looking, gray haired old mare, apparently ready to do murder. It was a comfort to know that he wasn't the only driven to such violent impulses by this arrogant creature's words, but Rodney knew that it would be words and not actions that would free his friend, and so turned his thoughts inward again to sharpen his own.

"It would seem," the elf continued, "that there are those here who would maintain that other knowledge about this Beckett's actions can mitigate these proven facts, and I challenge them to try. I believe you will find that they cannot, and that nothing more can be said to hide this fallen creature's true, and dangerous nature. That is all."

"Will you take a question, Honored Elder?" Parthenius stood to ask after a moment had passed and it was clear that Jerimus had spoken his piece. Parthenius was not an elder, but in proceedings such as this it was his task to speak neither for the accused nor for the accuser, but 'for the grove' -in the spirit of wisdom that inhabited this place. Jerimus nodded.

"I seek to clarify," the faun said. "You are of the opinion that there cannot possibly be any good or worthy knowledge or wisdom that could result from the researches conducted by the subject of this finding?"

Jerimus seemed quite displeased by the question, but his tone was was shockingly condescending as he answered. "Honored scholar," he replied. "This question is unworthy. Such research was forbidden, long ago, for this very reason."

"Honored Elder, if I may?" a water nixie, wide, moist eyes blinking behind the strands of her blue and silver hair, interjected politely. "It was not research into the acts of the first Makers that was forbidden, but attempts to recreate those acts. I would maintain that it is a subtle but critical distinction."

"And I acknowledge your distinction," Jerimus said, still insultingly condescending, in Rodney's opinion, "though I also concur that it is a subtle one indeed. One who intends to usurp the powers of the First Makers must, perforce, begin by researching those powers."

 _Bastard,_ Rodney thought to himself, as he saw Radek mouth the word 'vole' silently beside him. When no further remarks came the gnome, who appeared to be leading the proceedings, stood.

"If there are no other comments or questions regarding Elder Jerimus' statement," he said, "then we may now hear such witnesses as have invoked their right to give testimony. I understand that three Respected Citizens have come to make this demand?"

"Yes, sir, Honored Elder," Rodney said, rising and gesturing to the others to do the same. Not everyone in the grove had gotten a good look at the three of them when they had come in, and now not only the elders sitting on the dais, but the gathered dozens who sat on cushions and low benches scattered through the grove before the dais were able to take notice of just who had come to give testimony.

Though they were not in Aspect, Radek and Sheppard's true natures were entirely clear to the Fae folk gathered in the grove, and there was more than one gasp of amazement as they stood. Rodney knew that he, too, would be recognized, but he was not inclined to care. The presiding gnome let the crowd settle before he continued.

"Very well," he said. "As you are all within your rights, I grant your demand. Who will speak first?"

The grove was not silent as this pronouncement was made, but the presiding elder ignored the muttered comments as did Rodney. "I will," he said, stepping forward to address the dais.

"Honored Elders," he began. "I present myself to you as Dr Meredith Rodney McKay, although I suspect that I am already known to most of you. I am hear to speak on behalf of my friend, Dr Carson Beckett. In fact, it is this very friendship that I would testify about today. You may be thinking now, that this is nothing of particular note or merit, even when I say that he was my first real friend, after I came to make my home in the Mortal Realms. I would like to explain to you now why it is of such significance."

Rodney dared not look over at Carson as he spoke, because if he wasn't watering up now, he would before Rodney was finished speaking. He focused, instead, on his testimony, his gaze moving over the faces of the elders sitting before him.

"Were I the one required to defend my character here today," he continued after drawing his breath, "you would not find one witness to stand before you and say that I was a kind man. Neither will you find any honest being who would tell you that I am humble, soft spoken or that I suffer fools in any way shape or form. I am more generally known to be abrasive, arrogant, and bad with people, and I make apologies for none of these things."

Rodney did not need to look over his shoulder to know that Radek's eyes were sparkling with amusement, though he was likely trying to hide it, and Sheppard was undoubtedly smirking. Among the elders, a few seemed mildly amused, while some seemed distinctly unamused and others remained difficult to read.

"If I am in possession of any positive characteristics, I can assure you I was unaware of them in my youth," Rodney went on. "I repelled every offer of friendship and distanced myself from colleagues and coworkers, frequently with willful cruelty. I am not proud of this, but neither will I deny it. Yet there was one person who would not be put off by the very worst of my behavior. Why Carson Beckett endured my inexcusable behavior for so long I will never know, but in the end I had to submit to his efforts to befriend me and for that... there is no end to the debt of gratitude I owe him.

"Carson Beckett saw a decent man in me, and because of that I can say today that I am a decent man. Because of that I have good friends, and a mate who will love me for the rest of my days. I cannot speak to what rewards this being saw in taking the considerable trouble to befriend me, but I cannot, under any circumstances, see this to be the act of a being of fallen nature. If there is truly a spirit of wisdom presiding in this grove then this unworthy accusation will not stand today. Thank you, Honored Elders, for your indulgence and time."

Rodney did, as he withdrew to sit once again, meet Parthenius' eyes, and was relieved to see open approval in the old faun's gaze. Rodney flashed a relieved grin at his two companions and then Sheppard stood to speak.

Sheppard surprised them both by introducing himself by his true name, John Ransome Grayling III, which neither of them had ever heard him speak before, but Rodney figured it made sense. Since his identity as a Vampire was known, it was just as well to be open and honest about everything else. He introduced himself as a soldier first and foremost, however, and then spoke, from a soldier's perspective, about Carson's bravery and selflessness. He had no shortage of instances to draw on, Rodney knew, and Sheppard chose the best, speaking succinctly and objectively, as a soldier would.

Rodney wanted to cheer as he saw one or two heads nodding among the elders, especially the four warriors among them (a sylph two dwarfs and a turong), but he kept his peace. He did give Sheppard and enthusiastically approving nod when he returned to his seat and then it was Radek's turn.

Of the three of them, Radek was the most clearly nervous, and he removed and cleaned his glasses twice as he stood before the elders, seeking the right words with which to begin.

"I greet you as Dr Radek Zelenka," he began at last, "pack leader and pack member of the Great Pack of Moravská brána, and I am honored to be the first of my people to stand in this place for many generations." He paused here to frown and push his hair out of his face, then drew a breath and plunged ahead.

"I think it best to begin by stating, for the record, that Carson Beckett has saved all of our lives, in some cases multiple times." Rodney could not help glancing sideways at Sheppard.

"I say this now, lest anyone think that we are hiding this fact, to disguise some influence he might have over us," Radek finished with a frown. "Carson is a very good doctor, luckily for us, in addition to being a good friend, as Rodney has spoken of, and a brave man, as Shepperd says. I also happen to think that he is one of the wisest men I have ever met, but I would like to speak, in my testimony, about something that I believe Dr Beckett considers a failure." That was when Rodney realized that Radek was going to tell about Hoff.

They'd met the Hoffans in their first year on Atlantis, and had all been impressed with their hospitality and with the level of technology and civilization they'd managed to keep, in spite of the many Wraith cullings they'd endured in the past. When they'd spoken about the possibility of a medical approach to defeating the Wraith, by making themselves immune to their feedings, Carson had been very interested indeed, and all but leaped to help them.

He'd begun to have qualms about the zealousness of their approach when they had proposed testing their serum on a live, human test subject, but the man had been fully informed and insistent, so Carson had let it pass. Then the experiment had proved 'successful' and things had all gone to shit.

"You must forgive me," Radek said when he had come to that point in his narrative, "if I speak here of what has already been presented to you, honored Elders, but as a medical doctor, Carson Beckett has sworn many oaths never to knowingly cause harm, and to my knowledge he has never broken them. Therefore, when the Hoffans declared that no more testing was required and that they were prepared to begin administering this serum to their whole populace, he made strong objections. When they ignored his objections, he took his equipment, his notes, and himself home, and refused to have anything more to do with them, though this was no easy thing."

Indeed, it had not been. Rodney would never forget how his friend had agonized over the decision, nor how he had grieved when the next news came from Hoff.

"They had still enough serum to give it to fifty people," Radek said, "and of that fifty, twenty-eight sickened and died, including the young woman doctor who Carson had come to think of as a protege. Carson returned to Hoff when they begged him to help with those who had fallen ill, but in the end he could do nothing but watch them die."

The whole grove fell silent as Radek spoke and behind the dais Rodney could see Carson had his head bowed, and that his cheeks glistened with tears.

"Now that I have brought you this wretched tale," Radek continued, his voice firming as his conviction grew, "I would make bold to put some questions to you, honored Elders. I ask you, were Carson truly of fallen nature, would he have refused to continue with his experiments on a willing population? Would he have returned to treat those who had ignored his earlier pleas? Would he still be grieving for those he could not save?"

Radek's gaze scanned the nine elders sitting on the dais before him, as did Rodney, and saw many to be dark with sorrow or frowning in contemplation. For all that his tale had indeed been a wretched one, and clearly painful for Carson to hear, Radek had made his point more powerfully than either Rodney or Sheppard had.

"Honored Elders," Radek lifted his head to make his conclusion, "I put these questions to you in the trust that you posses the wisdom and sound judgement worthy of this position of power, as I have never known even of your existence before today. I know that I have the great privilege of being the first among my people for countless generations to stand before you, and observe the justice you deliver here. It will, therefore, be of considerable interest, for all my people, to see what passes for justice here, for if it is to be considered justice that a being of such qualities as Carson Beckett may be slandered and have his freedom curtailed for no worthy reason that I can see, then my people may decide for themselves, never to submit themselves to such justice, even if it would mean that their exile from this place might be for all eternity."

Whereas the prior silence that had descended over the grove had been one of sorrow and respect, the one that fell there now was one of shock. Rodney frowned to see the expressions of several of the elders turn downright hostile at Radek's words, but he supposed it was better to know who their enemies were. Unsurprisingly, that included both of the elves and one of the dwarfs, though the nixie looked all but apologetic, and the gnome's expression was difficult to read.

"You are very bold, pack leader, to say such things," he commented now.

"You are not the first to say so," Radek replied. He had hardly finished speaking when Jerimus leaped to his feet.

"Bold!?" he cried. "This presumptuous upstart of a Wolf pup has the temerity to lecture us on _our_ morals! I would name him more than bold!"

The turong -an Australian sort of nyad- unfolded her unnervingly thin length from her seat to stand and speak for the first time now. "And so you have," she said to the elf. "Though it would serve the purpose of this finding better were you to do more than call him names. Have you any answer, Jerimus, for his questions or his argument?"

"If I must," Jerimus answered, as though shocked that any answer was required. "Surely none of you need me to tell you how it would clearly have been advantageous for this fallen Beckett to make a pretense of the character these deluded witnesses speak of. Surely it can be seen how simple it would be for such a being to act a part, while holding his debased ends secret to himself? All this -for the most part- very 'moving' testimony is for nothing, Honored Peers, and of no consequence when seen in the light of the facts as we know them."

Jerimus and his two fellow travelers looked quite smug at the conclusion of this little speech, and several of the other elders seemed uncertain. Rodney, however, had been slowly simmering every time Jerimus spoke, and at this he finally boiled over, entirely forgetting his manners.

"That's not an answer at all!" he shouted, pushing to his feet in righteous indignation. "That's... that's a complete non-answer... a smokescreen. You could say that about anyone or anything, without a scrap of evidence."

"No evidence is required for the evident, Changeling," one of the dwarfs -the one who was always scowling- said dismissively.

"Evident?!" Rodney spluttered, striding forward to the dais, unmindful of the sentinels on either side preparing to stop him. "I'll tell you what's evident to me. This being," he gestured emphatically toward Jerimus, "definitely has his brain located in some sort of alternate reality where what he's saying actually makes some kind of logical sense. You find a way to disprove that and I'll consider the possibility that Carson Beckett could win an Oscar for acting, along with being a secret evil genius.!"

"Rodney!" he heard Radek hiss bhind him. "This is not helping..."

"It is not required that we disprove your pointless assertions," the second elf now replied. "On the contrary, your case requires that you disprove our facts, which you cannot."

"Oh please!" Rodney was on a roll now, and he had a feeling he had little to lose at this point. "You have _one_ 'fact', which has _never_ been a secret, and which you've interpreted completely incorrectly. Given the degree to which you've misinterpreted this fact, I'd have to draw the conclusion that you are either completely brain damaged, or that you never had any interest in the truth whatsoever..."

By now the whole grove was in an uproar and half the elders at the dais were standing and shouting. The gnome had to rap his gavel a number of times before the noise subsided, and by then Radek and Sheppard had taken hold of Rodney and dragged him back to his seat.

"Honored Elders," the gnome said, "I fear we have lost the focus of these proceedings. If the speaker for the grove has any wisdom for us at this time, I would welcome it."

"That I do, Honored Presider," Parthenius said, standing to cross to the center of the dais. "In the determination of a being's character, there is always the danger that the debate may fall to a contest of two opinions, neither one provable." Jerimus made an attempt to interject something here, but the gnome, who happened to be sitting next to him, shushed him forcefully. Rodney was content to keep his peace.

"I would, at this point," the faun continued without pause, "turn our focus from the subject of our finding, to those who first made the accusation, and their intentions in making it. Some have suggested to me, in private, that those intentions were less than honest, and I would make a statement now that will either prove or disprove that assertion. Once this is made clear, I believe it will be much easier to come to a conclusion about the actual subject of this finding."

A spate of heated muttering and whispering among the elders followed this request, but it soon subsided and the gnome solemnly nodded his head. "You may proceed, Respected Scholar," he said, even as Jerimus frowned deeply.

"I thank you for your indulgence, Honored Elders," Parthenius said with a bow, "and I will make my point as succinctly as possible. Thus. It has been suggested that some among this body fear that Beckett's researches will lead to the revelation of some facts of history that those beings would prefer remain unrevealed. If this is the case then the history I would relay to you now will likely render their objection moot. If not, then I hope to at least entertain."

At this point, Rodney observed both the elves start to stand, Jerimus opening his mouth to offer objections, but the gnome turned and faced them both with a dark look. "Would you confirm this supposition now, Honored Elders?" he asked with a glower.

"I only wish to point out that this serves only to waste our valuable time," Jerimus said, reluctantly sitting.

"And I would point out," said the menehune, sitting at the far end of the table, easily missed, save for his brightly colored, floral sarong, "that the search for proper justice is often time consuming, but never time wasted. I would hear this history."

"The genetic researches being conducted by our subject today," Parthenius began again at the gnome's nod, "might indeed reveal such histories as I am shortly to recount, but my own research into our earliest times has discovered some as well. I find it fitting that the tale I intend to share has largely to do with the origins of the two races whose representatives sit here today for the first time in some generations."

There was murmuring at this, all through the grove, but Parthenius paid it no mind, falling into a lecture mode Rodney knew too well from his childhood.

"The Wolves and the Night Hunters were the very last children of the Great Makers," the old faun continued, "and unlike those who came before them, they were made for a purpose. I think that this is general knowledge among most of us here, though it is seldom if ever spoken of. It is also, I think, general knowledge that these warrior races were made to do battle, in tandem, against the Great Evil which the Makers contested against in their last great age."

Hearing his ...father speak of it, Rodney too recalled having heard this bit of history himself, some time ago, but it had never occurred to him that Sheppard and Zelenka might not know it. Now he saw the two of them glance at each other in near startlement at the words 'in tandem', and realized that they might not -that none of their people might know of this history. Rodney wondered suddenly how it would change their worlds when this story came to be known among their respective peoples.

"What we do not examine, in this incomplete history," Parthenius continued, "is the reason the Makers returned to the Making, aeons after their Great Work was done, for the Great Evil was hardly the only evil in all the galaxies. Why did the Great Evil of Pegasus merit such acts, above all others?"

So enthralled in the tale was he that Rodney had not noticed how increasingly agitated Jerimus had been getting throughout. Now he leaped up from his chair, lunging forward as if to strike out at the faun.

"The motives of the Makers are _not_ to be spoken of!" he cried. "They are not to be revealed to the profane! How dare you speculate here, before..."

"Silence!" cried the gnome, in a profoundly ear-ringing baritone. It achieved the desired effect.

"Jerimus," he said, "you do your case no favors. Now sit down and be quiet. Respected Scholar, please continue."

Parthenius nodded graciously and proceeded to answer his question. "I suspect that Honored Jerimus fears that Dr Beckett will discover the Makers... 'fingerprints', so to speak, in the genetic makeup of the Great Evil -known as the Wraith in the galaxy in which they dwell. What the Honored Elder has overlooked, however, is that far more than fingerprints remain, in the correspondence archives of the Great Library... _if_ one knows where to look."

Rodney had never seen an elf turn that color of red before, in all the time he had lived here. Jerimus' companion seemed to be holding him in his place, but it also seemed to be a tenuous thing. Rodney resolved to keep an eye on him.

"Though it is clear that much has been destroyed or obscured, I myself have catalogued dozens of documents which clearly confirm the fact that the Great Evil were created by the Makers themselves, almost certainly by mistake, and most probably out of arrogance and carelessness."

There followed a stunned silence, and then whole grove reacted with shock, the very trees tossing as though a sudden wind had blown through the place, and gasps and cries could be heard from many in the gathered audience. Jerimus stood angrily then, pushing away the hands that sought to keep him down.

"I will not remain to hear this blasphemy!" he cried, "and neither should any decent, upstanding being present." He finished with a glare at his fellow elders, and then around the grove. Reluctantly, his elven companion stood, and the angrier of the two dwarfs started to, then hesitated and sat back down again.

"If you leave this table," you forfeit your case," the gnome called out. Jerimus did not even look back as he departed.

"This case was sabotaged!" he shouted. "I'll have no more part in it." A handful of others straggled up out of the audience to follow him out, but Rodney was pleased to see that it wasn't too many. Wouldn't want the place to have gone all 'fundie' in his absence. That would just be wrong.

When the crowd had settled again, the gnome stood to speak. "Clearly, the finding must be made, at this point, that the being Carson of the Beckett clan, cannot be said to be of Fallen Nature. Though it is not the usual custom, I would also like to have this finding stand as precedent, such that the question of this Beckett's character may never be raised again. I myself have seen sufficient evidence that this being's work, while controversial, is also vital and important, and must not be interrupted again."

This statement seemed to meet with concurrence all up and down the table, and when it did the gavel came down one last time. A cheer broke out from the centaurs behind the dais, and Carson came galloping out, to sweep Rodney up in a bone crushing hug. He was just releasing him and turning to Radek and Sheppard, when the gnome began to speak again.

"Gentlebeings," he said, several times before the celebratory crowd quieted. "Though the finding is made, our Scholar was interrupted, and would conclude his tale, yes?" Parthenius nodded, and the presiding gnome, along with the remaining elders and the audience sat back down and settled to listen.

"My thanks gentlebeings all," he said. "Pleased as I am that my point was proven so quickly, nothing that follows is pleasant to hear and it would not meet Jerimus' approval either. It is clear from the documents that I have uncovered that the Makers felt culpable for the terror they had set loose in the Pegasus Galaxy, and therefore created their last two races with the hopes of eliminating them. This, as all know, they did not achieve, but this is not to say that their... deployment was an entire failure."

Beside him, Rodney felt Sheppard and his mate grow tense, and he himself felt uneasy. He'd known better than to venerate the First Makers as gods, as more than a few here did, but this was an utterly unknown facet of their lives and he could not help but feel a little shocked to learn of it.

"Countless wolf and hunter warriors gave up their lives covering their creators' retreat from the Pegasus Galaxy," Parthenius continued, a note of sorrow in his voice. "In fact, I have even found hints that they may have made other forms of shape shifters, besides lycanthropes, who were slaughtered to extinction in this fight. Both the Wolves and the Hunters were nearly wiped out in those last, desperate days, though they did succeed in their objective."

Wide eyed, Rodney, Radek and Sheppard all shared a startled glance, each, Rodney was certain, thinking of Ronon. What would he think, Rodney mused, of this unknown history of his own people's origins?

"When the last of the Makers had left the Pegasus galaxy -and their mistakes- behind, those of their defenders who still survived were mostly able to escape into the Realms, where they lived and replenished their numbers until long after the Makers had ascended to the Realms Beyond, though the feud that drove their Long War had already begun. What caused that feud," the faun continued, addressing the question that had already begun to form in Rodney's mind, and likely in the mind's of his companions, "I will relay to you, gentlebeings, in detail, at a time when we may speak privately, and at length." Rodney nodded, satisfied for now.

"Suffice it to say that their feuding, their aggressive ways, and the fact that they were reminders of the Makers' last great failure, caused the Wolves and Hunters to be made exile from the Realms. It is not a decision that I personally find fair or just, and I am content to see it end now."

"And has it ended?" Rodney was surprised at Sheppard's voice -that he had spoken up, and how rough and full of emotion it sounded.

"Of course," the watery voiced nixie now spoke up. "It has come about just as was prophesied: Two leaders of the feuding Houses, who have made peace with each other, have come in the company of a mortal man, in the service of a fourth, with no thought of their own reward. Thus it was foretold and thus it has come about."

Beside him, Rodney could see Radek's mouth drop open in astonishment, and he turned to Rodney, tears already starting in his eyes. Grinning Rodney took his hand to listen to Parthenius wrap up his lecture.

"Thus we conclude what I must judge to be a sorry chapter on our history, and begin another which I believe will be much brighter. Honored Elders, gentlebeings all, I thank you all for your indulgence in this impromptu lecture, and wish you all good health and fortune."

Cheers and applause broke out now, which was a truly uncommon occurrence for the Athenian Grove, and then Carson was up and treating Radek and Sheppard to the same bone crushing expression of grateful exuberance that Rodney had endured earlier. Then Radek was in his arms and kissing the daylights out of him, tears streaming down his cheeks, and Sheppard was clapping him on the back and suddenly it somehow morphed into a frighteningly intense embrace, and Rodney had no desire to be anywhere else.

By the time all of that had dissolved Parthenius had made his way down from the dais and greeted Rodney with a rather more fatherly hug. Rodney accepted it warmly, and made formal introductions.

"I cannot tell you how pleased and honored I am to meet you," Radek said, enthusiastically taking the faun's hand. "He rarely if ever even speaks of his biological family, and I had naturally assumed that I would never have the chance to meet you."

"For myself," Parthenius said," I am pleased beyond words that our Rodney has found himself such a devoted life partner. In truth, we feared that he might never find one."

Another man might have resentfully asked why, but Rodney was too pleased to be resentful, and besides, he'd thought the same himself, and knew exactly why.

"My mother feared the same for me," Radek replied, "and since she has also now met him, she is as well pleased as you, I think."

"You've been to meet his pack, lad?" Parthenius asked.

"We all went," answered Sheppard, coming forward now. "And apparently I'm a member of his pack now." Sheppard nodded in Radek's direction.

"A vampire -a head of household yet- a member of a Wolf pack," Parthenius marveled aloud. "That is something truly miraculous."

"Worthy of a ballad, at least," said a new voice, but one Rodney knew as well as Parthenius'. "Perhaps even an epic. I shall get to work at once."

Phinnisti, Parthenius' partner and the other faun who'd raised Rodney in his changeling days, stood as a striking contrast to the scholar. Where the former was of a wiry build and dark, with a neatly kept goatee, the latter was more... rotund, and sported a head of fiery red ringlets and an extravagantly curled beard and mustache.

"And you would be...?" Sheppard asked, in a tone of voice that suggested that he already had a good idea of the answer.

"Phinnisti," he replied, pumping Sheppard's hand energetically. "And you are our Rodney's new mate?"

There was an awkward moment, and then John said, "Ah, no. Radek, over there, is the mate, I'm just... along for the ride. Also, Rodney sorta just busted me out of jail."

"Busted out of jail?" Phinnisti inquired of Rodney, in a voice that could be heard over much of the grove. "Is that what you're doing these days, my lad? Busting people out of jail?"

"It was special circumstances!" Rodney protested, even as he was pulled into an enthusiastic hug.

"'Special circumstances' indeed," the faun said, holding Rodney out at arm's length. "There are new tales in you, lad, that are beyond my wildest imagination, aren't there?"

"Yeah, you could say that," Rodney said, smiling in spite of himself.

"I would have them all, though I know that is not possible," Phinnisti said, "but I hope I may get at least two or three out of you tonight?"

Phinnisti had always been able to pull off this puppy dog eyes thing that shouldn't have been cute, but was. Rodney sighed and rolled his eyes.

"I'm sure you'll get more than a few out of me before the night is done," he said, "but hey, don't neglect these guys, they've both got some real whoppers, just as good as mine."

"I'm all aquiver with anticipation," Phinnisti cried. "Now, we must all repair to the glade without; there is a revel -in your honor, I might add- and most importantly, abundant food and drink."

It can arguably be said that the revels of the Fae Realms are the best parties in all existence. For starters, the wine is always excellent, and it's always free, and there are always literally infinite quantities of it. Also, there are no hangovers. Rodney had never been able to take advantage of this feature in his youth, but was really looking forward to it now.

Spread out in the late afternoon sun, in the broad, grassy glade that lay beyond the confines of the Athenien Grove, the revels were already well under way when they emerged. Rodney had to dodge around flocks of frolicking maenads and clouds of flitting sprites, among various other creatures, as they made their way across the green to where the centaurs had gathered, and Carson awaited them. He had saved a place for them on a comfortable carpet spread out on the grass, and cups of ale and plates of food were delivered to them as soon as they were settled.

Rodney decided early on that if people were going to come up to chat with him while he was eating then he should have no compunction about talking with his mouth full, and so he did. It had been a long day, which he could scarcely believe had begun in a half ruined manor house in East Bumfuck, Bohemia, and had involved talking his way into the Fae Realms enduring and winning a lengthy and contentious trial hearing, and had not included lunch. Honestly, it was a wonder he hadn't passed out from hypoglycemia already.

If anyone had any complaints about Rodney's lack of manners, no one said anything, though Sheppard, Radek and Carson all rolled their eyes at him from time to time, as the odd visitor was treated to various unwanted views of Rodney's dinner. Rodney let it pass. He'd done what he set out to do, which was no mean accomplishment by any standard, and he was content to bask in his success for now. Some difficult decisions did still lay ahead for them, but it was not necessary that he contend with them tonight. Tonight he would drink this truly excellent beer and eat as many dolmas and lamb shish-kebabs as he liked, and leave those difficult decisions for tomorrow.

Phinnisti and Parthenius remained with them throughout the feasting, though Phinnisti was up and down a few times to chat with the various musicians playing over on the far side of the glade. Rodney thought he might have been in charge of organizing them. Both the fauns were more than eager to hear the tales he and Sheppard and Radek had to tell about what they'd seen, done and learned in the city of the First Makers, though none of them spoke about Ronon, as they'd promised to keep his identity secret. Rodney was sure that both his fathers would be ecstatic to learn of his existence, but it must be for Ronon to say if he wished himself to be revealed.

So much history had been lost that might now be recovered, Rodney mused over his third beer, and though he scoffed at the soft 'science' of history in general, he was not immune to interests in such history as he might now learn about Radek's and Sheppard's people. Remembering the astonishment on their faces as they'd listened to Parthenius' recounting of the origins of their races, Rodney could not help but wonder what other revelations awaited them.

As if reading his mind, Parthenius stood now, brushing stray grains of rice off his robes, and glanced around at the three of them. "It would seem," he said, taking in the scattered, empty plates, "that you have all eaten your fill -for now- and so perhaps now is the time for us to repair to someplace more private where I may give you the tale that I promised you, earlier."

Radek, Sheppard and Rodney all exchanged glances, and seemed in concordance with this plan and so they all stood as well, along with Phinnisti, who insisted on refilling all their goblets before they departed. The scholarly faun then lead them through crowds of revelers and well wishers, to a secluded grotto with a small gazebo by a fountain. Parthenius dipped his finger in his wine and then inscribed a single rune on a tile at the lip of the fountain, which Rodney knew would cause the fountain's gentle, tinkling splash to cover the words of any conversation held here, should anyone try to eavesdrop.

"It is not that I would speak of such great or dangerous secrets here," he explained as they settled themselves comfortably under the gazebo, "only that this tale is for you, and none other. You may do with it as you wish, once it is told." Rodney nodded in understanding, and was pleased to see that the others did as well.

"Excellent," Parthenius said, stroking the curl of his beard. "Now, where to begin..."

"How about with 'in tandem'" Sheppard surprised Rodney by speaking up, though he was not surprised by the question.

"As good a place as any, and better than most," the faun said with an approving nod. "Thus, your people were first made, as I said, with the purpose in mind that you might, together, fight and defeat the creatures you call the Wraith. Naturally, the Makers began with the obvious approach, of making a single, powerful and resilient being, but they found that they could not make any single creatures without some flaw or weakness which the Wraith could not quickly deduce and exploit. It seemed that the more powerful a being that they made, the more vulnerable it also turned out to be. It was frankly a stroke of genius to solve this problem by creating a pair of races, in my opinion."

"And how were they... were we, stronger?" Radek asked.

"You were stronger because two are always stronger than one," Parthenius answered. "What was more important, however, is how much more resilient two different creatures fighting together are, than one. As Wolves and Hunters were strong in two different ways, so also did they each have different vulnerabilities. The Wraith might develop a weapon or technique to exploit a single flaw, but to overcome two is exponentially more difficult."

It was, Rodney had to concede, a brilliant strategy, and yet clearly it had not born fruit, in the end.

"And yet the Wraith did find a way to overcome... us," Sheppard said, echoing Rodney's thoughts. "How?"

"It took some time," Parthenius answered, "for your races were designed not only to fight for each other, but to support and defend each other. You know, of course, that feeding from a Wolf gives the gift of unprecedented strength to the Night Hunter?" There were nods all around. "And did you know that there is a gift that the Hunter may give in return?"

There was a moment of awkward silence and then Radek spoke. "There were rumors I heard as a child," he said. "Dark rumors, which no one would confirm, that the Hunters were not the only ones to commit atrocities. Tales of male Vampires kept as... concubines, or sex slaves -which is more likely- for those that... made use of them lived unnaturally long lives. I did not want to believe it, and no one would ever speak to me of these stories when I was older... but you will tell us now that they were true, yes?"

"I cannot say if they were true," Parthenius said seriously, "but indeed, they could have been."

"If they were, no Vampire would ever keep such a history, out of shame if nothing else," Sheppard said.

"But they probably were true," Radek said, profound shame coloring his voice. "Else how would such tales have been begun?"

"How?" Parthenius asked. "I will tell you how, for it was how your forefathers were finally defeated. Though the Wraith are fearfully strong of limb and sharp of tooth, their chiefest weapon has ever been lies and deceit, though it took them some time to learn this. They learned this for the first time, I think, when they discovered how to divide their enemy, even when the pairs of warriors that fought against them were more devoted to each other than lovers."

"With lies..." Rodney said, even as the awful truth came to him. "They started the feud... with lies."

"But they weren't lies," Sheppard little more than whispered, his face pale and voice strained. "I know what my people did... they fucking bragged about it, even when I was a kid."

"Eventually, the lies did become truth," the old faun said gently, "but in every document I have uncovered from that time, it seems clear that the rumors of atrocities came before any actual atrocities took place."

"And we believed them," Radek said, sorrowfully. "If these warriors were so devoted... how could they be so foolish as to believe such things?"

"Don't forget what the Wraith can do, Radek," Sheppard said, no less sorrowfully. "They can get into your head, make you believe stuff, even make you do stuff... even when you know better... even when you try to fight them."

The four of them fell silent for a moment, and then Parthenius said, "You speak... as if from personal knowledge?" If his tone was slightly incredulous, Rodney could hardly blame him. In the Makers' histories, the Wraith, which they called the Great Evil, were described of in terms of unspeakable horror. The idea that, in fact, all three of them had met with a Wraith, face to face, and sat here now, whole and unharmed, must seem beyond belief.

"He's actually been on one of their ships and even seen a Queen," said Rodney, indicating Sheppard with a nod of his head. "And we've all fought them. Radek killed, like, four of them once when he was protecting me."

Never in all his childhood had Rodney ever seen his scholarly father ever rendered speechless, mouth agape with astonishment. "Even you, my son?" he asked now.

When he remembered his time growing up in the Fae Realms, Rodney tended to recall the time of his early adolescence, when he'd become prickly with the growing knowledge that he did not belong, and his 'fathers' had given him the emotional space he required. It had been rather different when he'd been younger, of course, and it all came back to him now, how they'd cared for him, loved him even. He'd always been dear to their hearts, even when they'd had to refrain from showing it, and Rodney was reminded of it now. They'd known he'd gone to Atlantis and what he might face there, and they'd worried, though Rodney had never once thought of them.

"He saved my life," Sheppard answered the old faun's question. "Shot a terrifyingly old and powerful Wraith just as it was feeding on me, even when he knew it would come after him when he did."

"Well, I used a luck charm," Rodney allowed when Parthenius's wide eyed gaze sought him out. "The one you guys gave me, in fact."

"Facing such a monster, you had the presence of mind to activate it properly?" Parthenius asked, not one iota less impressed.

"Well, you know," Rodney said, looking away with a shrug. "Genius here."

His usual restraint seemed to fail the old faun at this, and he leaned forward to gather Rodney in his arms and pull him into a brief but heart-felt embrace. "You have made us so proud, my son, so proud. Words truly fail me."

"Rodney has always told us that he was destined for greatness," Radek put in with a smile. "We have always assumed that it was you who told him so."

"We may have," Parthenius said, surreptitiously drying his eyes, "but never did we guess that he would gather about him such true and noble companions."

Now it was Sheppard and Radek's turn to look away awkwardly, but Rodney felt an unaccustomed urge, and indulged himself, reaching his arms around the shoulders of the two men sitting on either side of him. It was a daring thing, Rodney knew, but the moment he did it, the rightness of it filled his heart. Neither man, neither Radek on his left, nor Sheppard on his right, stiffened or tried to pull away. On the contrary, they allowed themselves to be drawn closer, and fit in a way Rodney would never have expected.

The soul deep comfort of their close presence put Rodney in mind of how much he'd missed them in their the many long weeks of absence from Atlantis, and how much he never wanted to endure such again. They had a long way to go -in more ways than one- before they got back to the city they loved, but having brought them all together again, Rodney felt certain that it was not beyond their grasp.

"You don't get companions that you don't deserve, on Atlantis," John observed in answer to Parthenius remark. "She's given us all gifts, amazing ones, but never anything we've been undeserving of."

The faun nodded solemnly. "I am thinking more and more that Atlantis is a place we have been foolish to overlook, for far too long," he said. "There is too much history there that we ignore at our peril. I may put this to the elders at their next convening."

Rodney nodded, seeing suddenly the complex of developments that might spring from the Fae Realms taking an interest in Atlantis, but also feeling profoundly comfortable, warm, well fed and maybe a little tired. Parthenius smiled and Rodney knew he understood.

"But I can see that you are all ready to make a conclusion of this long and momentous day," he said, standing and then reaching a hand out to help Rodney rise to his feet. "I can hardly blame you, and we have prepared the Bower for you and your companions. Come with me and you will soon have your rest."

Rodney recalled the Bower from his youth, and immediately longed to be there, lying on the warm feather bed in the arms of his two companions. So tired and relaxed was Rodney that he did not stop to think how odd that thought was until he and Sheppard and Radek stood at the door to the Bower together, bidding Parthenius a good night.  
*****


	10. Tale the Ninth: Détente

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that our heroes are reunited, Carson's trial concluded favorably and the age old exile of Wolves and Vampires from the Realms lifted, a single problem remains: how will our heroes be able to return to Atlantis. Help comes from an unexpected quarter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers: none

**Tale the Ninth: Détente**

John Sheppard figured that it was going to take a while to wrap his brain around what all had just happened in the very short space of the last twenty four hours. A little over a day ago he'd been sitting in a jail cell awaiting his court martial and now, while his future definitely looked a good deal less bleak, it didn't really look any more certain. To be sure, he was as happy as he could be that Carson was out from under his particular cloud, and satisfied with the part he'd had to play in that outcome, but he had no idea of what lay in store for himself next, even in the very short term.

For the moment, he was following Zelenka and McKay, and McKay's adoptive father to some sort of 'bower' -whatever that was- presumably to retire for the night, though he wasn't at all sure that 'retiring' meant sleeping, at least for McKay and Zelenka. John wasn't opposed to the idea of sleeping himself, though he had a feeling it might be a while before he was going to be able to manage it, wherever he ended up.

He figured he ought to be asking questions about that, but couldn't quite figure out how, or what to ask before they arrived at what looked, at first, to be nothing more than a slightly well arranged pile of brush. A closer examination revealed the 'bower' to be a simple, lean-to structure with a thatched roof and walls of brush. There was a door -the kind that's split so that the upper half could be opened separately to create a window of sorts- set in the tallest wall, and a small window, closed only by a curtain, set in one of the side walls. A dim but warm light, such as might be made by a candle, cast a glow through the window.

"Perfect," Rodney said, just as John was saying, "Umm... " 

There was a moment of confused silence, and then Rodney said, "What?" as though daring John to offer up any kind of complaint. 

He struggled for a moment with just how to put it, finally settling on, "Well... the expression, 'three's a crowd' comes to mind..."

"Oh..." said Rodney, eyes wide, and there was this fey, almost terrifying smile on Zelenka's face. Parthenius, the faun, chose that moment to lay his hands on both Rodney's and John's shoulders and say, with a mischievous grin, "Well, I believe I'll leave you lads to sort things out for yourselves. Goodnight and the most pleasant of dreams!"

"But..." John began futilely as the old scholar, in his solemn back robes, actually skipped away down the path. He sighed as he watched him go, then turned back to Rodney and Radek.

"Look," he said, "I'm pretty sure I can find my way back to that gazebo..." he began, when Rodney interrupted.

"No," he said, both urgent and awkward. John raised his eyebrows.

"By... by which I mean," Rodney clarified, "no, you probably can't find your way back... things like that are never in the same place you left them around here, and also..." he swallowed, glanced briefly over at Radek and then said, "no, I... that is, we... we'd rather you, um, stayed. Here. With us..."

John reflected that the recent events of his life ought to have prepared him for facing such paradoxes as he seemed to face now, but he only felt himself a bit dumbfounded, and utterly confused.

"But..." he said, painfully aware of how lost he sounded. "You... Wolves mate for life... you can't..."

And there was that fae, slightly hungry grin on Radek's face as he said, "It's true that once we form a bond, it remains for life, but that is not the same as monogamy, yes?"

John found himself putting out a hand to steady himself against the side of the 'bower' before he even knew what he was doing, because this was seriously messing with his head.

"Come on," Rodney said, moving toward the door. "Come inside and sit down before you fall down. There'll be coffee, too."

"Coffee?" Radek said, predictably eager.

"If my dads told the sprites to set the place up for me, there'd better be," Rodney said, opening the door and then taking John's hand to pull him in. John should not have been surprised to see how much the interior of the bower put the lie to its humble exterior, but it was impressive all the same.

The inside walls of the bower had been layered in mud or plaster, whitewashed and decorated with colorful murals of birds and flowers. The floor was covered with a variety of sumptuous carpets, which no doubt felt delightful underfoot. Even now Rodney was sitting himself on a short bench by the door to remove his boots, and Radek had knelt nearby to do the same. John remained standing, unwilling to commit himself further, and took in more of his surroundings.

In the far corner of the room there was a small hearth with a banked fire, waiting to be built up, firewood neatly stacked to one side. Rodney hastened to do just that once his shoes were off, skirting the enormous, and no doubt delightfully comfortable, bed set in the corner to John’s right. He let his eyes skate past that to the low table in the center of the room, situated in front of the hearth. Pillows surrounded it, and upon it was a bowl of fruit, a plate with various wedges of cheese, and a basket of bread. There were also three cups, placed neatly upside down in the center of the table, a pot of honey and a small pitcher, presumably of cream, sitting beside them. Rodney was already reaching for one of the cups.

Of course, that was a coffee pot keeping warm beside the hearth, just as Rodney had predicted, and Radek was getting his own cup, placing it beside Rodney’s to be filled as Rodney poured.

"Should we pour one for you as well, John?" Radek asked, looking across at John where he remained standing by the door.

It was starling to hear Radek call him by his first name, and it shook John, shattering the paralysis that kept him hovering near the door. He sat abruptly on the bench, elbows on his knees, while Rodney bustled about the room, lighting various candles and lanterns. As the room resolved into greater clarity around them, the solid truth of what Rodney and Radek truly intended did as well, but John couldn’t make it seem real for himself.

“I can’t,” he said, lowering his head to rest in his hands.

“What,” Rodney smirked. “Afraid it’ll keep you awake?”

“No,” John said, not lifting his head. “I can’t… with you guys, I can’t…”

“And why not?” Radek’s voice was gentle, and too knowing. It frightened him in ways that a ten thousand year old Wraith warrior hadn’t. All John could do was shake his head.

“So… you’re going to sit there and tell us you don’t want this?” Rodney asked, sharp but not offended. “Don’t want us?”

Gods and devils, John cursed silently. They both knew him too well, and there was a full pitched battle going on inside John’s head. There was no way he could open his mouth and tell Rodney McKay and Radek Zelenka that he didn’t want them. They’d know it for a lie before he’d uttered the first word, but to tell them the truth, to even consider acting on it… he could feel himself breaking out in a cold sweat of panic at the very thought.

“No…” Fuck, was that him speaking? He could swear he hadn’t had that much to drink, and yet… “Of course I want… You know I do…”

“Then why…?” Radek began, but Rodney spoke over him.

“Is it your heart’s desire?” he asked, and crap, how was a question like that coming out of Rodney McKay’s mouth. “Are _we_ your heart’s desire.”

 _Have you forgotten where I grew up?_ The memory of Rodney’s oft spoken reminder answered John’s question, and now John was compelled to answer Rodney’s.

“Yes,” John murmured through his hands, the word seeming to come of its own volition. Devils below, did this place have a truth spell woven into it? “Makers help me, yes.”

“John,” Rodney’s voice was entreating now, as he’d never heard it before. “Take a look around you. Think where you _are_. This is the _Land_ of Heart’s Desires. You’re the first Night Hunter in generations to stand here, and in coming you’ve ended your people's exile forever. You can have _anything_ your heart truly desires. All you have to do is reach out and take it!”

Now John’s throat closed around the words of denial he wanted to say, and so he could only shake his head, hands closing into fists. “It’s too much,” he managed, words coming out in a harsh whisper. “Too much to lose.”

In the silence that followed, John thought for a terrifying moment that he’d won his argument, and then he heard Radek speak.

“Nejseš válečník?” he asked, and John had to look up then, to make sure that it really was Czech that Radek was speaking, and that he hadn’t simply lost his mind. The wolf met his gaze with startling intensity, and then repeated himself in English.

“Are you not a warrior?” he asked, teeth bared ever so slightly, and eyes gleaming just a little more than they should in the candlelight. “Is there not a fire in your heart to fight for what it desires most, to protect it?”

“With everything I have,” John answered as though compelled. “Everything I am.” And then as simply as that John understood: it was not a surrender he faced, but a call to arms, a challenge he could not deny. He surged forward, Radek’s feral grin waking something very old, very deep inside him, and seized the wolf by his shoulders, meeting those graceful, mocking lips with his own.

He thought he might have heard Rodney gasp, or possibly even whimper, but nearly everything was drowned out by the blood roaring in his ears, and the pounding of his heart. _Are you not a warrior?_ Radek had asked, and he had asked because he was a warrior himself and now John understood at last what it meant that they were truly made to fight at each other’s sides.

It was, therefore, not at all a gentle kiss. Tongues forced their way in past strong lips and biting teeth; mouth moved against mouth in a contest for dominance, and after a moment hands came to reach and grasp, Radek’s clutching at John’s shirt and John’s splayed across the back of Radek’s skull, tangled in the whisps if his wild hair. John knew his fang teeth were just a little longer and sharper than they should be, and Radek had to know it too, but he didn’t seem to care. In fact, Radek seemed to be… _growling_ … though to be fair, it might have been both of them.

Eventually they did have to break it off, and when they did, both their gazes flew to Rodney. He was, predictably, staring back at them, eyes wide as saucers and lips parted in something almost like shock. Suddenly, John needed to taste those lips like he needed to breath.

He heard Radek give a soft, wolfish laugh as he turned his attentions to Rodney, but John paid it no mind. The blood sang in his veins –blood that he’d had from Rodney and blood that he’d given- and the link that he’d assumed had lapsed to nothing now flared to life between them. Evidently Rodney felt it too, for he gave a little gasp and then he was in John’s arms, mouth greeting his like a long lost lover. When their mouths met, John found that Rodney tasted like home.

About the time that he realized that he’d pushed Rodney back into the cushions on the floor, John also realized that, behind him, Radek was taking his shoes off. The next thing he knew Radek’s hands were on both of them, warm clever fingers slipping under his shirt to caress and tease, and John realized that, yes, it was high time for their clothing to all come off.  
As loathe as he was to be parted from Rodney, even for a brief moment, John understood the necessity, and wanted to be naked, and to have the others naked as well. At Rodney’s urging, the process of removing clothing became combined with the process of moving them all to the bed, which John found sensible as well, and only a short while later everyone was naked and on the bed and nothing at all stood between John and his heart’s desire. It was a little stunning.

Then it was evidently John’s turn to stare lustfully at the sight of Rodney and Radek, twined in each other’s arms, one small lithe body moving against a broader, sturdier one. The wonder of that moment was that John felt none of the lonely sense of exclusion which he’d felt before, watching the two of them. Gone was the sense of being a third wheel, nose pressed against the window looking into a room where everything he wanted and would never have was kept from him. They were his now, to watch or touch if he pleased, whenever he pleased. It was a heady sensation, knowing this, and for a moment John was torn, all but overwhelmed by the wealth of delightful choices that lay before him now.

To watch or to touch? Or maybe he could do both. At the moment Radek was kissing and licking his way down Rodney’s body, pausing to lave a nipple. Rodney moaned and writhed a bit, hands fisting in Radek’s hair, and John surrendered to the temptation to touch the neglected nipple himself. It was like flying, knowing he could do this -could reach down and skim his hand over Rodney's broad chest, letting his fingers briefly toy with the small, already hard nipple. Rodney whimpered, then opened his eyes to meet John's gaze and offered him a brilliant smile.

"Yeah... John," he sighed, reaching a hand up to lay over John's, and there was nothing for it then but to lean down and kiss away that beautiful blinding smile.

Beside him, John heard Radek's low chuckle and then there was a hand moving over his skin, caressing its way along his side, drifting up to follow the contours of his ass. John moaned softly into Rodney's mouth, indulging himself in all the sensations -the wet heat of the mouth exploring his, the knowing hands on his body... and then there was a mouth there too, teeth nipping the skin of his ass.

"He likes to leave marks, you know," Rodney commented, having drawn away from the kiss at John's gasp. "But don't worry, he won't leave any visible marks without asking first."

"Doesn't matter," John murmured against Rodney's throat. "Nothing left to lose but you. You can have anything you want... anything."

Behind him, Radek made a pleased humming sound, and the next thing he knew there were teeth sinking into the firm flesh of his ass, biting and sucking so that John squirmed helplessly in Rodney's arms. He found himself thrusting as the bite deepened, his achingly hard cock finding the crease below Rodney's hip, while Rodney ran his hands over his back murmuring, "Yeah... John, yeah..."

"Mine." Radek growled possessively when he had finally finished. "My pack." Not two days ago John would have found it shockingly disturbing, how right it felt to be claimed so by a wolf. Now he knew, however, just why it was right, and how very right it was. They were meant for each other, to claim each other and to give something of themselves to each other. It came to John then that there was a gift he had for Radek that he had not yet shared, and that now was definitely the time to share it.

"Yes," John said, rolling on to his side to address Radek. "I am yours, but there's still one last... connection we need to make."

"Indeed, there is a gift I would have of you," Radek said, grasping John's hips to push him onto his back. He'd taken his glasses off, John realized, and without them Radek's face was suddenly much more open, revealing a gentle and passionate soul which had always hidden behind the glass lenses. John felt a surge of... privilege, to be loved by such a being, as he watched Radek open his thighs and bend to brush his lips over the head of John's cock.

"Gods... Radek," John moaned, letting his head fall back against the bed. Rodney's lips found his there, stifling if not silencing his cries. Rodney's body covered his, as he leaned down to kiss, and put much of what John's hands craved to explore within easy reach. While his left hand had its way with the firm shapeliness of Rodney's ass, his right could feel its way down Rodney's torso till he found the rigid length of flesh he'd been seeking.

Soon enough Rodney's muffled cries were just as loud as John's, and then they had to break off, because they both had to pant as well. His hand continued to stroke and squeeze Rodney's cock, however, but as John cherished the way Rodney's sex filled his hand, and the way Radek's clever mouth was swallowing down his own cock, he began to think how else he'd like to have Rodney's fill him. Assembling his thoughts enough to communicate this, however, proved to be a challenge.

"Rodney... fuck..." he began, hips helplessly trying to thrust up into Radek's mouth as the wolf's wiry strength held him pinned down. "I... I want... fuck... please..." Words failing him, John tried tugging upward with the hand fondling Rodney's ass, and relinquished his grip on his cock.

Rodney made a questioning noise at first, but then followed John's gaze (he was a genius after all) and figured it out. Eagerly, he crawled up John's body, and John had the unique and indescribable experience of feeling someone chuckle around his cock. It almost finished him, but he wanted to taste Rodney's cock first. He wanted to come with Radek's mouth on him and Rodney's cock in his mouth.

Now Rodney was straddling his shoulders, pushing a couple of pillows under his head and neck (which John really appreciated) and then he was tasting the precum on the head of Rodney's cock, feeling the whole hard length of it fill his mouth and throat. John closed his lips around it, caressing hot flesh with his tongue, opening his throat all the way to take it, and groaned with pleasure.

Lying on his back, John couldn't really move his head much, but could only let Rodney fuck his face, which was altogether fine. Both Rodney's hands grasped the back of John's skull, fingers splayed wide in amidst his disordered hair to hold him, and thrust his cock into John's mouth with a perfect rhythm. Radek's rhythm on his own cock was increasing in speed and John felt himself began to fall into the sensations.

Hot wet tongue sliding along his shaft, hard cock head pressing against the back of his throat and then withdrawing, gentle suction on his own sex, slick thrusting over his own lips and tongue, muscles of a throat closing, swallowing around the head of his cock...

He broke with a choked cry, back arching, fingers digging into Rodney's hips. He felt the hot pulses of his spending, coming in Radek's mouth and thought, _My gift... My gift to you._

Rodney pulled back, letting him shout and pant through his climax, then shifted off to the side to lie back on the bed. John could see Radek now, lifting his head away from John's softening cock, swollen-lipped and alluringly mussed. He smiled with wicked satisfaction and licked his lips, and John felt a flare of nearly animal lust, in spite of his recent satiation.

He reached for Radek, though still clumsy and a bit feeble, but Radek understood and complied, climbing up to kiss him. Tasting himself in Radek's mouth seemed to provide some last piece in the puzzle they made -closing their circle and locking it, so that nothing could ever break it. They all felt it, pulling each other in close and trading heated kisses, knowing each other by taste alone.

Radek and Rodney, John began to notice as he emerged from his post-coital daze, were both hard as rock, as they moved against him and each other. It comes as no surprise to John then, that when they finally pulled back from each other -Radek still sitting lightly astride John's chest, and holding Rodney's face between his hands- they were breathing hard, eyes slightly glazed.

"I will taste you both tonight," Radek said, and the possessive hunter in John knew exactly what he wanted and why he wanted it. He will have it himself, at the next possible opportunity, John thinks. For now, however, he is entirely on board with the idea of watching Radek suck Rodney's cock, but naturally, Rodney had further plans.

"Mmm, fair enough," replied Rodney. "But I think someone needs to fuck Sheppard, so I guess that gets to be you."

They both turned to him next, of course, and John is entirely pleased with how his voice doesn't break as he says, "Well, Rodney, when you're right, you're right," though it did come out just a tad breathlessly.

That earned him a laughing kiss from Rodney while Radek clambered off him and went to find something to use for lube. Given the situation, Rodney didn't really have to be a mind reader to point wordlessly, as he continued to kiss John, directing Radek toward a shelf near the head of the bed. Radek returned a moment later with a small ceramic pot, stoppered with a large cork and decorated with... scenes that made the intended use of its contents more than clear.

Rodney distracted John then by starting to play with his nipples while continuing to kiss him. It seemed as if Rodney just couldn't manage to get enough of him, and kept returning to taste him again. John completely knew the feeling, however, and so didn't mind at all. He also thought he'd never get tired of Rodney's able fingers pinching and tugging on his nipples the way they were just now and, by the Dark Lord, he was going to get hard again real soon if this went on. Then he felt the press of a slender finger, moving slick against his opening.

He froze and then...okay, yes, he whimpered, moaning high and helpless into Rodney's mouth.

"Eager much, Sheppard?" Rodney smirked, speaking the words into John's lips. John could only manage to say, "Fuck, yes," and from below he heard Radek laugh. Then he slipped the tip of his finger in, caressing its way past the entrance.

"You are a bit tight," Radek observed, slowly inserting the rest of his finger. "But I get the feeling you have done this before?"

John gave a snort of laughter, then lifted his head to speak. "It's been a couple of years," he said. "But I can usually, um, relax pretty quickly."

"Mm," said Radek, concentrating on his task now. Looking past Rodney, who was kissing his way down John's neck and shoulder, John could see Radek's head, bent in contemplation between his knees, utterly focused on what he was doing to John. At the moment that was slowly thrusting his finger, all the way in and out, and now at last there was another and John groaned with pleasure at the sweet ache of being stretched.

All John wanted was more, more, more, and he arched his back, angling his hips to get Radek to give him more, go deeper. Radek's free hand came up to press John's hip into the bed, half pinning him, and Rodney lifted his head to murmur in John's ear, "Lie still. He likes it when you lie still."

"Fuck," groaned John, because that was way hotter than he ever would have expected, and he really wanted to give Radek what he wanted, but he also really wanted Radek to get on with fucking him.

"He is not wrong, John," Radek said, pinning him harder. "Lie still... and you will be rewarded."

John let his head fall back with a sigh and tried to relax. Rodney made that a bit easier by leaving off John's nipples and throat, and instead, sitting back and taking up John's nearer hand. He began by kissing John's hand, palm, back and each finger, root and tip. By concentrating on this, John could make himself lie still, even as Radek worked his two fingers deeper into John's body.

Now Rodney started to suck John's fingers, one by one, into his mouth, drawing them out slowly so that John began to wonder when his fingers had become sex organs. The look on Rodney's face suggested that they were, and the way it felt to have Rodney's hot, wet mouth sucking on each of his digits... John realized that Rodney had been watching Radek all this time, when Rodney sucked two of John's fingers into his mouth and began to work them in exactly the same tempo as Radek's fingers in his ass.

"Just think," Rodney said moments before sucking John's fingers halfway down his throat, "this is just like what Radek is feeling right now." And then Radek pushed his fingers deep into John's body and tagged his prostate.

John gave a choking, guttural cry, his whole body arcing in pleasure, and he was most definitely hard again -as hard as if he hadn't come in days.

"You were quite correct, John," Radek commented pleasantly. "You are loosening up quite quickly." Then he pressed a third finger in.

John continued to manage to mostly lie still as Radek worked him with three fingers. He didn't spend too long at it, though, and John noticed that his breathing wasn't quite so steady any more by the end. When he released John's hip and grasped hold of his thighs to part them, John saw that Radek's hands weren't quite steady either and John smiled, anticipating a good hard fuck.

Lying still was utterly beyond him, however, when Radek finally pressed his very hard, comfortably sizable cock into John's body. John groaned aloud, back arching and one hand clutching at the bedclothes beneath him. Kneeling beside him, Rodney bent down to kiss John, then leaned across to kiss Radek, tasting him around his panting breaths.

"Ježiši Márja!" Radek groaned, now fully buried in John's body. John moved to hook his knees over Radek's shoulders, wanting him deeper still, but Radek shrugged off the right one, so that John's hips were canted at a slight angle. Before John could wonder why, however, Radek was leaning forward and to the right, between John's thighs, to take Rodney's hard and dripping cock into his mouth. John had figured that Rodney would end up straddling John's hips so that Radek could take him more easily, but this way John could see... nearly everything.

Radek was braced with one arm wrapped under and around John's left thigh, and the other grasping at Rodney's right hip as he slowly began to thrust into John. Rodney's hands now came to hold Radek's head, since Radek's hands were occupied, and began to carefully fuck Radek's mouth, rocking his hips in a slow, steady rhythm.

"Fuck, Radek, your mouth..." Rodney moaned as Radek wrapped his lips around Rodney's cock and sucked enthusiastically. Watching Rodney's face grow slack with pleasure, and Radek, eyes closed, working his mouth over Rodney's cock, John didn't think he'd ever seen anything hotter. He moaned in delight at the feel of Radek's cock moving deep inside him and wondered why he'd ever thought that this would be a bad idea.

Before long, Radek was fucking him vigorously, driving all such speculations from John's mind, but his hands, momentarily unoccupied, seemed to have ideas of their own. His left, reaching down, found Radek's face, caressing it briefly before finding his hand, twinging their fingers together affectionately. With his right John found that he had access to many places on Rodney, and mapping over the contours of his very shapely ass earned him a long groan and a, "God, John, yes..." from Rodney.

John took this as encouragement, and found he was able to fully explore this region, taking particular pleasure in reaching between his thighs to stroke the sensitive spot just behind his balls. This caused Rodney to lose his careful rhythm and insert a shouted explicative into his litany of encouragements. Radek opened his eyes at the change in rhythm, and John could see the laughter in them, urging him on.

Fired by Radek's approval, John followed his fingers' desire to go deeper, although something slippery was wanted first. He had no idea where the pot of lube had gotten to, but his own cock and belly were smeared in sufficient quantities of precum that he decided this would serve quite well for his purposes. Fingers slick with the substance, he returned to the warm depths between Rodney's cheeks and grinned at his lover's increased invective as he felt John's finger at his opening.

"Oh fuck yes, do it; do it you fucking bastard..." he murmured and John complied. He could not help remembering the wet heat of Rodney's mouth around his finger as it entered the tight heat of Rodney's body. Rodney trembled, muttering, "Oh god, oh god, oh god yesss..." as John slid one finger as far as it would go into Rodney's opening.

It really was something to watch Rodney's babble gradually rendered into wordless whines and moans, especially when John knew he'd had something to do with it. Of course a lot of that was Radek's doing too, just as it was Radek's doing that John wasn't even going to try to talk just now, beyond saying, "fuck," every time he felt Radek's cock slam into him.   
The word was becoming a bit breathier every time John said it, and the speed was increasing too. John figured it was about time for Rodney to get that second finger.

Rodney's voice was pitching higher and higher, and John could see his fingers clutch at the loose strands of Radek's hair. Clearly he was close, and John figured he knew how to tip him over the edge. Pressing his two fingers as deeply as he could into Rodney's body, John's fingertips sought the sweet spot, rotating his wrist until he found... there it was.

John tipped his head back to watch Rodney's face as he came, feeling Rodney's shuddering body clench and spasm around his fingers. He heard Radek moan as he tasted the seed spilling into his mouth, and then Radek was kneeling up, letting Rodney's still quivering cock slip from his mouth, and thrusting into John with renewed enthusiasm.

John was only aware in a vague way of Rodney collapsing to lie beside him as Radek buried himself in John's ass again and again. He seemed to be muttering something in Czech around his clenched teeth, hair falling into his eyes and sweat gleaming on his broad forehead, and Gods and Devils, John was going to come, for the second time this evening, without a hand on him.

Except that there _was_ a hand on him now, slicking his length with his own precum, broad, strong fingers he knew quite well in other capacities wrapping around him, pumping in rhythm with Radek's thrusts. It spelled the end for the last of John's critical thinking capacity, and all he could do was lift his hips and throw himself against Radek's cock as best he could, until a white searing pleasure burned its way through John and he was coming like he'd never come in his life before.

Radek came, shouting in Czech, a second later -he thought he remembered that, but nothing was terribly clear afterwards. There was the covering warmth of Radek collapsing onto him, warm lips casually pressing against his chest, then Rodney was leaning over to meet those lips with his own. John managed to get his vision to focus enough to watch the two of them, and found it well worth the effort. He only realized that he was grinning, however, when Radek lifted himself away from Rodney and shifted up to kiss that grin right off of John's lips.

Radek tasted of Rodney's mouth and of Rodney's seed and John found himself craving the taste, feeling something almost ancient, deep inside him, singing _mine, mine, MINE!_ as he tasted one lover in another lover's mouth. Radek's mind seemed to be running along a similar track as he drew back from John's mouth and took up his hand and Rodney's, to murmur, "Mine; my pack," and kiss both their palms.

"My House," John murmured in response, pulling his lovers close to lie curled together on the bed and only belatedly realizing what he'd said. To his surprise, however, neither of his lovers seemed either mystified or troubled by this pronouncement. Radek said only, "Samozřejmě," and snuggled in closer, while Rodney said, "Hmm, stands to reason," and kissed John's shoulder before closing his eyes.

Really, though, John considered as he slipped off to sleep at last, this _was_ the Land of Hearts' Desire, and so he shouldn't find any of it surprising, should he? Somewhere, in the world beyond this one, all this would have profound implications and probably cause a peck of trouble, but in the here and now nothing mattered but what they three had made between themselves. More durable than the strongest fortress, John felt the power of it protecting him as well as his lovers, and that knowledge let him drift off to sleep without a care in the world.

***

John woke feeling... warm, though it was not so much a matter of outward temperature as it was something inside him, warming his heart, and maybe even his soul. That warmth seemed to reverberate between him and the two other warm bodies curled close on either side of him. Everything came back to him then, though not as a shock so much as a happy recollection -like how it was to wake up and realize that it was Christmas when he was a kid.

Only every day was going to be Christmas, from here on in. 

That thought was a little breathtaking, and also, he had to pee -both compelling reasons to get his ass out of this immensely comfortable bed. He didn't figure he would manage to avoid waking the others -he was in the middle after all- and he felt a fleeting kiss on his shoulder as he rose, and another on his hand. The gestures left him seemingly cloaked in warmth as he freed himself from the covers, and it occurred to John, as he cast about for his clothes, that he maybe needn't bother with them for now.

Indeed, the early morning sun was warm on John's skin as he stepped outside and around the back of the 'bower' to find a convenient tree. It was... different, strolling around outdoors in his 'altogether', as his grandma would have put it. Naturally, the sun warmed air was just warm enough that the mild breeze which now and then brushed over him wasn't the least bit uncomfortable. In fact, it felt quite nice, and John realized that he was just seeing the merest sample of what pleasures might be had in the Fae Realms.

He'd stepped out mulling over breakfast and of how they might get back to Atlantis, but by the time he came back in, all John could think about was sex. This proved just as well, as once back inside, John found Radek crouched over Rodney on the bed, putting a mark on his buttock likely very much like the one John had on his.

John dropped down to sit beside them without a word, watched for a moment, and then turned to nip carefully at Radek's backside. Radek gave a little moaning whine in response and then lifted his mouth away from Rodney's ass and said, "Oh yes, by all means go on with that, John."

John nuzzled then licked the place on Radek's perfectly compact ass he wanted to mark, pleased to have been encouraged. "You finish marking him," he said, lips moving over skin, "then I wanna fuck him."

"Oh, hell yes," came Rodney's voice. He was laying on his stomach with his head pillowed on his arms, and evidently hadn't seen John come in. "What've you given him permission to do, Radek?" he asked now.

"To mark me," Radek answered. "Just as I... ježíši!... as I am marking you."

Cautiously sinking his teeth into Radek’s firm flesh, John considered that though he'd had certainly had sex plenty of times before, and possibly even truly made love a time or two, what he had here was profoundly different. For one thing, he himself felt barely on the edge of control, almost dangerous, and yet entirely safe. Once again his fang teeth were extending, just enough that they might break the skin he was tasting, and his awareness of the blood that ran so close made his own blood burn.

"Do it!" came Radek's unexpected command. "I know what you want. Take it."

John drew a breath, lifting his mouth away just enough to speak. "S'dangerous," he rasped, shaking his head, knowing it was something that he had to at least try to stop himself doing, but....

"Yes, exactly," Radek said, "but I trust you."

"Gods..." John whispered, lowering his head again to taste, and take. Radek's permission had confirmed that mad certainty, that he could do as he wished and do no harm. With delicate pleasure, he let his fangs just pierce the skin to open two tiny puncture wounds in Radek's backside, each admitting only a single drop of blood. Even such a small amount was a heady elixir for John, firing his passion and desire even as he closed the wounds with a second lick.

The helpless, desirous sound Radek made as John tasted him fired him further. He easily spotted the pot of lube, set back up on the shelf, and reached for it -a gesture Rodney did not miss. He pushed himself up onto his knees, presenting his ass to John like a gift. Surely, it was as fine a gift as John had possibly ever received.

Setting the lube aside for the moment, John paused to smooth both his hands over the perfection that was Rodney McKay's ass. Only one thing 'marred' the pale, perfectly rounded flesh beneath John's hands, and that was the rapidly coloring mark Radek had left there, on Rodney's right cheek. John knew immediately that it had to be balanced, to restore that ass to its perfection, and he bent to his task without hesitation.

Having tasted Radek's blood, he could not possibly pass up tasting Rodney's, and so John did to Rodney's left cheek as he had done to Radek's -taking two small drops of blood and leaving only the faintest of marks. Rodney's blood sang in John's veins as Radek's had done, and Rodney too moaned as he felt the pleasure of the link that came alive with John's feeding.

"Gods, John, just fuck me already," Rodney moaned, but when John reached for the lube he saw that Radek was already using it, two fingers inside Rodney now.

"I know how impatient he gets," Radek said with a chuckle, then did something which caused Rodney to growl and arch his back.

"Fuck. Me!" Rodney wailed, and John figured he'd oblige him. Radek had three fingers pushing in and out of Rodney now so John just slicked up his cock and eased Radek out of the way. Pressing himself into the delicious, tight heat of Rodney's body was... John had no words for it. All his words had been driven from him and all John could do was moan brokenly and hold himself still for a moment.

He broke as Rodney moaned in response and thrust back against him, and then John could not stop himself from thrusting in turn, driven by a rhythm older than the creation of his people. He remained only peripherally aware of Radek as he moved himself around to sit before Rodney, and then Rodney himself was shifting, lifting his head to take Radek's rigid and leaking cock into his mouth.

Now John's gaze became fixed, on Rodney's bobbing head, and Radek's face, gone slack with pleasure. Time ceased to have any meaning, and there were only these sights, the sounds of his lovers' moans and of flesh moving wetly against flesh, and the sensation of being enclosed in Rodney's body again and again... and of Rodney's precum-slick cock in his hand, hot and solid. John had no recollection of actually deciding to reach down to take it, but he was happier than he could say to find that he had.

As a result, Rodney had begun throwing himself against John's cock, taking him as deep as he could and making loud, if muffled, moans around Radek's cock. Radek was panting with harsh breaths, mouthing inaudible words that were probably in Czech anyway, and it was clear that they were both close, but then, so was John.

It was Rodney who went over first, however, spurting hot pulses of his spending over John's fingers, and throbbing around John's cock in a way that absolutely guaranteed that John succumbed next. Evidently, Radek followed more or less on his heels, which meant that John didn't have a chance to watch him come with his full attention. He'd really wanted to, but figured that he'd have plenty of opportunities in the not at all distant future, and that was a pleasant thought indeed.

Similarly pleasant and unfocused thoughts were all John could manage as he finally slipped free of Rodney with a happy shudder, and collapsed comfortably beside him on the bed. Radek joined them on Rodney's other side a moment later, and all three of them reached out to draw each other as close as possible.

"So," Radek said some time later, "as pleasant as this is, I could go for either some sort of showers, or breakfast, or both?" He turned the end of the statement into a question, mainly directed at Rodney, John thought.

"There's baths," Rodney replied. "More like hotsprings, really, and I could probably find them, but we... or rather I- probably won't have time. I vote for breakfast."

"Wait," John said, brain slowly coming back to life. "Why won't _you_ have time?"

"While the two of you have had your exile status lifted, meaning you could live here for the rest of your lives if you wanted," Rodney said, rolling over onto his back to lay his arm over his forehead, "I am still here on a day pass -or rather, a day-and-a-night pass, to be exact. I'm gonna have to go in a few hours."

"Go where?" Radek asked quietly.

"I'm not sure yet," Rodney said with a sigh. "I could probably get them to let me go directly back to Atlantis, or to anywhere I liked on Earth, but if you go back to Earth, John..."

"I'll be back in the brig before you can say 'vampire Air Force officer,"' John concluded for him.

"Come," Radek said, pushing himself up. "These are not things to be discussed before coffee," and because he was absolutely right, John and Rodney followed him.

"The thing is," John said a little later, washing down his mouthfull of brown bread and fresh butter with a swallow of truly fine coffee, "I'm not sure I wouldn't be in just as much trouble if I showed up on Atlantis. I don't even know who's in command there now."

"It's still Lorne," Rodney answered him, licking honey off his fingers. John privately put that image aside for a lonely night, though he might not be having so many of those any more.

"Elizabeth bullied the SGC into letting him keep the job," he said, going for another slice of brown bread and honey. "Then she had to wheedle Lorne into staying, and he only agreed on the condition that she promised him that she would get you back. Lorne apparently really doesn't want your job."

"That's all well and good, Rodney," John replied, "but the job of Military Commander of Atlantis kinda does have to be filled by an active member of the US Military, which I'm... ah, not... anymore."

And there was the crux of the matter. Rodney and Radek could go back to Atlantis any time they wanted, and their jobs would be waiting for them, but he would have no position there, at best. At worse he'd be arrested the moment he returned. He and Radek could stay here, in the Fae Realms, but Rodney couldn't. Part of John railed silently at the unfairness of it, and another part was bitterly unsurprised that the moment John found his heart's desire, it seemed to be destined to be torn asunder.

A frustrated and unhappy silence fell over the three of them, which was thankfully interrupted by a soft rap on the door frame of the bower.

"Gentlemen?" came Phinnisti's resonant tenor, as the faun poked his head through the open, upper half of the door. "I do beg your pardon for the intrusion," he continued, "though I would have expected to be interrupting a happier mood."

"It was happier," said Radek with a sigh, "until we came to consider our immediate future."

"Ah, well, that is understandable," said Phinnisti, looking almost tragically sympathetic.

"You're here to remind me that it's time for me to go, yes?" Rodney said glumly.

"Oh," the faun replied, as though he had forgotten himself. "I suppose it might be... in an hour or two, but that is not what brings me here, in fact. In fact, I have come to bring the three of you to a negotiation, which is commencing almost immediately."

"A negotiation?" John asked, troubled. "I thought we settled all that stuff with Carson."

"Indeed, you have," Phinnisti replied. "And so this is nothing to do with the Becketts, but has, as it happens, everything to do with Atlantis. Dr Weir has come, and she has a proposal."

***

What with everything else Rodney'd had on his mind the last few days, it had been easy to put aside his speculations about what, if anything, Dr Weir had been planning on their behalf. He'd had no doubts that she wanted to be able to help them, but he'd had no idea of how she might, nor how effective it might be. Now, hearing that she'd come here -that she'd been admitted, as a mortal, to the Fae Realms- Rodney began to harbor the faintest hopes that she might have a solution.

"Rodney, have you any idea what this proposal might be?" Radek asked as the four of them came to the meadow where the negotiators and their associates were gathering.

"I actually told her not to tell me any of her plans," Rodney said shaking his head. "It seemed the smarter thing to do, at the time."

"Probably a good idea," John said, which warmed Rodney's heart. Any further thoughts he might have had on the matter, however, were curtailed when they drew close enough to see who was among these gathered. 

"Oh crap," John said quietly. "That's my father."

"And Jakub!" Radek added with a grin. "Nazdar!" he called out loudly, waving a hand in the air. "Ahoj, Jakuba!"

"Vlčku!" Radek's packmaster, who had been conversing with a tall, pale man with inky black hair and oddly familiar features, turned to greet them. He strode forward to meet Radek, who had done likewise, and placed his hands on Radek's shoulders, lifting his chin to expose his throat. When two pack leaders meet, Rodney recalled, it is always the senior most who submits first.

Their little ritual completed, the two wolves fell to conversing in rapid fire Czech, which involved Radek coloring and looking away, and Jakub kissing him on both cheeks. Rodney, Sheppard and Phinnisti came up to join them a moment later, though the faun quickly stepped to one side, extracted parchment and a pen from his satchel, and began to take notes. The tall pale guy Jakub had been chatting with remained at the perimeter, watching the group, and John, it seemed, in particular.

"John, Rodney," Jakub shook each of their hands. "It is very good to see you again, and very fine indeed that our reunion takes place here, yes? It is a great day." They all nodded and made agreeing noises, though their gazes one by one shifted to the familiar stranger on their perimeter. 

"Ah, forgive me," Jakub said, mercifully. "I should introduce my colleague." He motioned for the stranger to join them, but before he could speak further John spoke up instead.

"I'll introduce him," he said abruptly, as if he'd only reluctantly decided to do so at the last minute. "Rodney, Radek, this is Clan Leader and Householder Matheson Greyling. Householder, may I introduce Dr Rodney, McKay and Dr Radek Zelenka."

Of course, Rodney realized, as the pale man with John's nose and cheekbones stepped forward to shake his and Radek's hands with rigid decorum. This was John Sheppard's father. "Gentlemen," he said by way or greeting. "John. You all work for Dr Weir, on Atlantis?"

Rodney might not be the most astute observer of non verbal communication, but he could write the book on rude. He found Greyling's general coolness to be nothing unexpected, but his overt disrespect of John made Rodney bristle.

"In fact, I happen to be the head of sciences," Rodney replied briskly, "while this man is our chief engineer. Sheppard here has actually been the head of the military on Atlantis the last four years, and seeing as you _must_ know full well that this man is also a Householder himself and, as such, deserves to be addressed as one, I can only assume that the dazzling splendor of the Fae Realms has made you forget your manners." Standing beside him, John's expression suggested that he would rather be enduring dental work, but Rodney ignored him. Being rude to jerks was his prerogative.

Stiffly, Greyling turned to John, regarding him, stone faced. "Householder... Sheppard," he said at last, with icy formality.

"Householder Greyling," John acknowledged, bearing the same unreadable expression he used for negotiating with the Genii.

"Sheppard... a wolf which allows himself to be tamed," Greyling reflected with false lightness, "and tasked with protecting the very creatures who, by rights, ought to flee or cower before him in fear."

"It is no tame creature," Radek spoke up now, blue eyes sparking fiercely, "who is able to protect Atlantis from the monsters which threaten her now, rest assured."

Greyling's penetrating gaze shifted to Radek and lingered there for a few seconds. "Your House?" he asked at last.

"Yup," answered John, arms crossed over his chest, posture deceptively casual.

Equally noncommittal, Greyling nodded slowly twice, assessing, and then seemed satisfied.

"Your Dr Weir," he said, "has a proposal that would give us both," and now he nodded in the direction of Radek's packmaster, "common cause. It is a masterful stroke."

"Does this surprise you?" Rodney quipped, still bristling just a bit. "You'd be wise not to underestimate her in the future."

"I've no intention of doing so, Doctor," the vampire replied, taking some of the wind out of Rodney's sails. "I can see this surprises you, but I would have you know that for all the differences I may have with... your Householder, I am not a stupid man."

"Don't take it personally," John said with a bit of a smirk. "Rodney thinks everyone is stupid, but he comes by it honestly."

Before anyone could comment on that, however, Phinnisti stepped forward, calling their attention to where Dr Weir, accompanied by General Jack O'Neill and another balding gentleman wearing a shockingly incongruous business suit and carrying a briefcase, were being lead towards a pavilion on the far side of the clearing.

"The place where your negotiations will take place has been prepared," he said, "and the relevant parties are mostly all gathered. Come."

**

The five of them -Rodney, Radek and John, along with John's father and Radek's Packmaster- followed the faun toward the pavilion, where they were shown inside. There were more carpets there, cushions for sitting laid in a large, equilateral triangle, and a low, round table in the center set with tea, honey and cups.

Elizabeth, O'Neill and the man in the suit, who Rodney now recognized as IOA representative Richard Woolsey, where there already, settling in their places, and Elizabeth motioned for Rodney, Radek and John to join her, on one side of the triangle. O'Neill and Woolsey were seated on their left -the IOA man looking distinctly awkward sitting on the floor- and on their right Greyling and Jakub were joined by the warrior dwarf from yesterday's finding, and another high caste elf, a female who also looked to be a warrioresss of some sort.

This was to be a three party negotiation then, Rodney deduced, between Earth's authorities, warriors of the Fae, and themselves, who must be representing Atlantis. He glanced across to Elizabeth, curious as to what her proposal was that had brought these three agencies together. When they were all settled in, however, it was Jack O'Neill who spoke first.

"General Landry is on his way," he said, "with another person he believes should be here for these proceedings. They'll be arriving shortly, but I think we can go ahead and start. He's heard your proposal, Dr Weir, but not everyone here has."

Elizabeth nodded, glancing down at a slim folder which she now opened. "Very well," she said. "I'll begin with a little background, then. Given the great quantity of historical data we are now uncovering on Atlantis, I began discussions, some months ago, on the possibility of inviting a small scholarly delegation to take up residence on the city. The idea seemed to be generally well received, but progress on this front was delayed recently when we became aware of a new and troubling development in the Pegasus Galaxy." She paused here to glance around and make sure everyone was following.

"The Wraith are, of course, and ongoing threat for us," she continued after her pause, "and have been since we first came to Atlantis, but recent intelligence suggests that they are preparing for an attack of greater force than we have yet endured. Naturally, we have asked for help from our allies in Pegasus, but the peoples of the Pegasus Galaxy have been at the mercy of the Wraith for generations, and they have never been able to oppose them successfully."

Where was she going with this? Rodney wondered, exchanging glances with Radek and John. He had no idea, but O'Neill and Woolsey seemed to know and Woolsey seemed somewhat skeptical, gauging from his expression.

"I am also aware," Elizabeth said, "that the resources that Earth's military have to offer us, through the SGC, are limited, and that you have other demands regarding Earth's defences. When I heard the most recent and momentous news from the Fae Realms, however, I immediately thought of a possible solution to our problem, that may come as a welcome opportunity to some of the newest residents of the Realms."

All the while, as Woolsey's expression had grown increasingly dubious, Jakub's was growing increasingly interested.

"You have a powerful and numerous enemy," he offered now, "and we have many energetic and youthful warriors who would test their metal against a true opponent, and would relish a righteous battle. Is this the nature of your proposal, Dr Weir?"

"It is at the heart of it," Elizabeth answered.

"And the body?" asked Woolsey, typically, wanting specifics.

"I've proposed an official Fae military presence," Elizabeth answered directly, "a base, so to speak, on Atlantis."

Well, Rodney had to admit silently to himself, in diplomatic situations at least, Elizabeth Weir might indeed be called a genius. This was certainly a genius solution, providing elegant resolutions to nearly all of their current predicaments. He glanced over to John and Radek, saw the wheels turning in both their minds. This could be great, he thought, exchanging nods with his lovers. It was at that moment, of course, that Landry arrived.

"And I've read that proposal, Dr Weir," he said, striding into the room. "I find it imprudently naive, at best." He quickly found his place beside O'Neil and lowered himself to sit, but when Rodney saw who came following after him, moving more slowly as she paused to take in everything around her, Rodney found himself rising to his feet.

"Jeannie?" he said incredulously. "What... what are you...?"

"Who...?" Rodney heard Radek ask, and John answer, "Beats me."

"It's Rodney's sister," Elizabeth stated quietly. "Dr Jeannie McKay-Miller."

"Please forgive my late arrival," Landry now addressed all present. "We had to arrange for child care at the last minute. As for what Dr McKay-Miller is doing here -I said I find Dr Weir's proposal to let untrustworthy foreign forces establish a military base on our most powerful and secret operations asset, naive at best, and at worst I find it burgeoning on seditious. Dr McKay-Miller is here to lend us her own experience in just how untrustworthy and dangerous these... people can be."

The overwhelming wrongness of everything Landry had just said actually left Rodney speechless for a moment, and in that moment of silence Jeannie worked her way around to where she was meant to sit. "Um... hello everyone," she said nervously. "Hello... um... Merideth?."

"It's Rodney," Rodney said, staring at a face he hadn't seen in decades. "I go by Rodney now." His parting with her -and his parents- had not been kind, but he'd never held any real animosity for his sister. He'd even followed her career, and had been pleased to see that she'd gotten her doctorate in mathematics, and then another in cosmology, some years back, and disappointed when she'd put her career on hold to have a family.

"It's, ah, quite a surprise... obviously... to see you here," he managed awkwardly before Elizabeth tugged on his pants cuff and urged him to sit.

He did so as Jeannie replied, "For me too, sort of... Okay." This last came in response to O'Niell's gesturing for her to sit as well.

"If I may continue describing my proposal in a bit more detail," Elizabeth requested when they had all sat, "before General Landry maligns it further?" The request was met with assent and Elizabeth took another last glance at her documents.

"Atlantis is large, and largely uninhabited," she said. "It's one of the things that makes it so difficult to defend. Our energy shield, when it is sufficiently powered, can hold off a large assault, but small incursions, when the shield is not deployed, remain an ongoing problem, particularly as Wraith are able to mask themselves from our city-wide life sign detectors. A Fae military presence would not only ameliorate our manpower problem, many of them have a natural capacity to sense the Wraith, thus making up for our technological shortcomings."

Yes, yes, this proposal was positively made of win, Rodney thought impatiently, and the only reason Landry was opposed to it was that he was clearly a speciesist. Drumming his fingers on his knee, Rodney pondered worriedly as to whether his sister was really in the same camp.

"In addition," Dr Weir continued with her pitch, "we now have documented evidence that certain Fae warriors proved quite effective in fighting the Wraith in the past, and might have been even more effective if they'd been supported properly. We have the means to support them in Atlantis, and we fully intend to do so. Now, given that the Wraith are a serious threat not only to Atlantis, but to Earth as well, I see this proposal as a chance to reduce that threat for all concerned, and perhaps even bring a new area of peaceful cooperation between the Fae Realms and Mortals. That is the extent of my proposal, ladies and gentlemen."

This declaration was met with a number of agreeable nods. Even Woolsey, Rodney noted, seemed to look interested, though he could not read Jeannie's expression. Landry, of course, was scowling disagreeably.

"Does no one else -no one mortal, that is," Landry now remarked, "find it alarming that nowhere in the extent of this proposal, is there any measure or proviso that stands as a disincentive for the Fae forces stationed on Atlantis to simply take command of the city themselves? I for one find it appalling, and will never grant my approval to any such proposal."

"And I, for one," said the warrior dwarf, "find such talk of 'disincentives' to be a direct impugning of my honor, and that of all other warriors who would not hesitate to swear allegiance to Dr Weir and her administration. 'Disincentives' are necessary only when dealing with beings who know not the meaning of honor, and those who insist upon them are themselves no different."

 _Zing!_ Rodney thought to himself, and beside him he saw Sheppard wince. Landry had not missed the insult either, and looked to be preparing to rise, face flushed with outrage. It was O'Neill who put a heavy hand on his shoulder to keep him down.

"You may speak of honor and allegiance all you like," Landry growled, "but your actions speak louder than your words. It is to speak to those actions that I have brought Dr McKay-Miller here, for she has been treated with the greatest dishonor by your kind, and her tale serves to illustrate quite clearly my own concerns." All eyes now turned to Jeannie, who widened her own eyes and looked decidedly uncomfortable.

"Tell them what happened to you when you were four," Landry said finally, as Jeannie appeared to be utterly tongue-tied.

"Oh... well," she said. "That was when I saw my brother blow up... I mean, it wasn't really my brother, obviously, but I didn't know that then. All I knew was they we'd gone out to play in the back yard after dinner one evening and... and he started to say something, but when he opened his mouth fire came out, and then it was in his eyes and then... he was on fire everywhere... and then he sort of just... fell apart... and there was nothing left. I, ah, I remember screaming a lot, and my mom and dad had to take me to the hospital because I guess I couldn't stop. I had nightmares about it, obviously, for years and I'm, ah, still seeing a therapist. I... it wasn't right to make a little kid see that and I don't know why I had to."

"Would you be surprised," asked the elven warrioress into the silence that followed, "to hear that I agree? What was done to your brother should have had nothing to do with you, especially as an innocent child, and in my estimation, you are entitled to some redress. The nature of the redress may be difficult to determine, given the nature of the injury, but I recommend you take it up with a grievance council here. You will be heard."

This, Rodney was happy to note, seemed to have taken a lot of wind out of some sails, and Woolsey seemed downright pleased.

"I was unaware that such agencies existed here," he said, "but I find that a very encouraging sign. If possible, after this meeting, I would like to know more about it."

"Of course," the warrioress replied. "Nothing could be simpler."

"Alright, this is all very well," Landry intruded, lest more good feelings follow. "But if you are so concerned for the feelings of an innocent child, then why turn McKay against his family when he returned? You cannot say it came about by accident and there can be no reason for such pointless cruelty."

"Is that true?" came Jakub's softly accented question. "Was your brother truly turned against his family when he returned?"

Rodney was surprised to see Jeannie turn to meet his gaze for a moment, and he had no idea what she saw in his face.

"It's true he said some... kinda not nice things when he found out he couldn't go back home," she said at last, "and it did make me cry, but I was eight, and he was really upset. Also... I mean, I don't know exactly what all happened, but my parents were the ones who called the police, so that the Social Services people would come and take him away, and I don't think he was being violent or anything. When they came to take him he was just sitting on the front porch steps crying. My mom and dad didn't even let him come inside."

Now both John and Radek were staring at Rodney, along with everyone else and that, in addition to being forced to recall the single most miserable moment of his life, made Rodney wish heartily for a hole in the ground he could crawl into.

"And what makes you think he would have even wanted to come in?" Landry snapped meanly.

"He was a fourteen year old boy who'd just been told that he could never go home again," Jeannie rounded on him. "I think they could have at least offered him a hug, but they didn't even seem to want to touch him."

"Is that true?" John muttered angrily beside him, but Rodney couldn't meet his eyes.

"I can't talk about this now," he hissed back through clenched teeth.

"So," Woolsey turned to Jeannie to ask, "understanding that your childhood memories may not be perfect, would you say that it was more likely that it was your parents who were against your brother, rather than the other way around?"

"I guess... it seemed that way," Jeannie finally answered. "They never wanted to talk about him later, so I just gave up asking."

There followed a long and uncomfortable silence with John, surprisingly, finally broke.

"General Landry," he said, in the tone of voice he used when he and the Genii were pretending badly to be civil to one another. "It seems to me that in dragging up all this wonderful McKay family dirt with the intention of proving Fae folk to be faithless and uncaring, you have actually done the opposite. Is there anyone here, Fae or mortal, that disagrees?" Glances were exchanged all around the table, but no one spoke up.

"Indeed," Matheson Greyling spoke for the first time, "This being the case, I am quite interested in settling the details of Dr Weir's proposal."

"I don't care what details you settle on," Landry interrupted. "I'll never agree to any such Fae military presence on Atlantis, and I'll sign nothing that includes it."

"Very well then," Dr Weir replied promptly. "You leave me no choice. If I cannot get further military assistance from Earth, and you will not allow any from the Fae, then I will have to declare the Atlantis Expedition untenable, and call for the city to be abandoned."

"What!?" Landry moved to rise again and again O'Neill urged him down. "You can't do that!"

"I most certainly can," Elizabeth replied, as cool as Rodney had ever seen her. "It's in the expedition charter, and it's in my contract as well. I am absolutely entitled to shut down this expedition whenever I find just cause to do so."

"This..." Landry fumed, "this is blackmail, pure and simple!"

"It's a civilian expedition, Hank," O'Neill countered. "And as the civilian director, it's Dr Weir's call to make. Frankly, her reasoning seems pretty sound to me."

"Would you leave the city undefended, Dr Weir?" the warrior dwarf asked now.

"We'd do our best to leave her protected in some ways," Elizabeth answered. "We'd probably sink her back under the sea, as she was when we found her, and we'd remove the gate crystal so as to prevent the Wraith from using the Atlantis gate to get to our galaxy, but that would be the most we could probably do."

The dwarf nodded. "And there are Thresholds that lead to Atlantis, are there not?" he asked, turning to the elf beside him.

"There are," Rodney answered for her. "At least two that I know of, and probably more. Some of the full blood Fae that are there now have used them." Landry threw Rodney a glare that clearly said, 'traitor!' but he said nothing.

"Tak, so," Jakub commented to the other Fae warriors, "If the mortal expedition abandons Atlantis, then it seems we would be free to establish a presence there on our own."

Dammit! Rodney swore to himself. Things had looked so encouraging earlier, but that asshole Landry... But surely he would have to back down now. Beside him, Elizabeth sat steely eyed and unblinking and on his other side he could see Sheppard clenching and unclenching his fists. For several long moments a taut silence reigned over the pavilion.

"We could," the elf warrioress replied eventually, a considering tone to her voice. "And in truth, if Dr Weir's expedition is forced to abandon Atlantis, then we probably should, but I would have you know, in all sincerity, that I would much prefer the arrangement Dr Weir first proposed. I am quite convinced that we would prove a far stronger and more resilient force with the addition of the mortal presence, and I would hazard a guess that my comrades here feel no differently."

"She would not be mistaken in my case," Jakub said immediately.

"Nor mine," followed Greyling, even as the dwarf was speaking the same words.

"That's... very encouraging to hear," Woolsey said his gaze darting nervously from the row of Fae warriors to General Landry, who was scowling so ferociously that Rodney wondered how there wasn't smoke coming out of his ears. All eyes were on Landry now, who remained sullenly silent, until O'Neill finally broke in.

"Oh for pete's sake, stand down, Hank," he said with a sigh. "You're making us all look like assholes."

"And you're going to all look like idiots when this all goes horribly wrong," Landry said, pushing himself angrily to his feet. "I'm not going to stay here to play the bad guy, and I'm not putting my name on whatever unholy alliance the rest of you cook up. You do what you want, and history will judge you for it."

They all watched him go without a word, and even Rodney could feel how the tension lifted as he left. It was Woolsey's self-conscious throat clearing that broke the silence this time.

"As I understand it, we are not required to fill the vacancy in our team," he ventured, glancing down at a document he had extracted from his briefcase, "unless we wish to, in order for the negotiations to proceed."

"You are correct," the elf warrioress answered him. "Though you have the right to suspend the negotiations till you have found a replacement, if you so desire."

"No, I don't think that will be necessary," Woolsey said, glancing over at O'Neill and Jeannie, who were both shaking their heads. "I believe the existing team can do a perfectly adequate job."

What followed over the next hour or so was decidedly more productive, though for Rodney, decidedly more boring. He took a passing interest in the discussion of where the Fae military base should be located in Atlantis (they eventually settled on a vacant tower complex on the south pier) but after that it was all haggling over how many could be there, and what obligations they'd have, and whether or not they'd share food and maintenance services. Rodney was theorizing on ways that the kleenex in his pocket could be folded into a triangle resilient enough for 'finger football' when he became aware that Sheppard's name had come up in the discussion.

"The brass should like this, Jack," Dr Weir was saying. "Colonel Sheppard's record clearly speaks for his loyalty to the SGC, to Earth, and in particular, to me. He's a known quantity, and as commander of the Fae forces on the city, he'll know exactly what Atlantis' mortal military commander will need from him."

"His record also speaks to a pattern of insubordination, to his conventional military commanders and to you," O'Neill replied dryly, "but that's not going to be his real problem. His real problem is that, according to any American military officer, he's an escaped fugitive from military prison, where he should be awaiting a court martial for lying about his Fae status. Any SGC soldier he encounters on Atlantis is currently under standing orders to arrest him and take him into custody."

John's expression, Rodney saw as he glanced over meet his gaze, was bleak. Making John the military commander of the Fae forces was another brilliant idea (Rodney was seriously going to have to stop underestimating Dr Weir), but even she didn't seem to have an answer for this, Rodney guessed by her furrowed brow.

"Actually..." All eyes now turned to Woolsey, who had extracted yet another document from his briefcase, this one the size of a phone book and heavily worn and dog-eared.

"As it happens, there are quite a number of contingencies, written into more than a few different treaties," Woolsey continued in the manner of a collage lecturer, "regarding the eventual end of the exiles of the Wolves and Night Hunters. I've been searching them out over the last day, since we heard the news -it's been challenging and fascinating work, to be honest, as there are dozens of them, scattered all over the place, and I'll be writing up a compilation as soon as I'm sure I've... well..." Woolsey paused when he realized that he'd been rambling, and cleared his throat.

"At any rate, I recently found one, written into an amendment of the 1927 Prague Treaties, that may have a direct bearing on this very situation," he wound up, glancing around the pavilion with satisfaction.

"Well don't keep us in suspense, Richard," O'Neill said, eyebrows raised.

Woolsey nodded. "This section of the treaty, which was signed by the US as well as most major world governments, states that, upon the occasion that the exile of the Wolves and Night Hunters ends, they shall all have the same diplomatic immunity to all mortal crimes, save violent ones, as do all other full blood Fae interacting in the mortal realms."

"Opravdu?" Jakub asked, astonished.

"This is true?" Greyling asked, sounding both skeptical and hopeful.

Rodney's eyes widened, thinking of Caldwell's words to him -that rescuing Sheppard wouldn't improve things for any other vampires like him- and considered that the Colonel would never be so happy to be proved wrong. He wondered how many other wolves and vampires would come out of the woodwork in the American military. O'Neill was evidently thinking the same thing.

"I can't wait," he said, massaging his temples as though his head hurt, "to see how this goes down with the brass. God, Landry is going to blow a gasket."

"I doubt he'll be the only one," Woolsey said with unaccustomed candor. "Nonetheless, these are treaty obligations. They won't have a choice."

"No, they won't," Elizabeth concurred, and then turned to John. "So," she said, "it would appear that congratulations are in order, Warrior Sheppard, first Commander of the Atlantis Fae Military Forces."

She reached out a hand for him to shake, and John took it, looking a bit dazed. His eyes seemed suspiciously bright, Rodney thought, when the elven warrioress and the dwarf from the Fae contingent stood and offered him crisp salutes. Rodney and Radek merely treated him to a couple of enthusiastic slaps on the back, each thinking of how they would celebrate in private, later.

Everything after that was crossing 't's and dotting 'i's and Rodney, Radek and John fell to throwing each other giddy grins to pass the time. Eventually it came to their attention that no one was actually discussing the proposal any more, but they were, in fact, taking turns reading it, in its final, agreed upon form.

"And as every Fae Warrior serving on the City of Atlantis," Elizabeth read out the final passage, "shall obey the lawful orders and dictates of their Commander, Warrior John Sheppard, so shall Warrior Sheppard obey and follow the lawful dictates of Commanding Governor of Atlantis, Dr Elizabeth Weir. So we are agreed, legal representatives of the SGC, of the Warriors of the Fae and of the City of Atlantis, on this Eighth day of the Fourth Moon, of the year 11724 of the Realms, which is known to mortals as 2007."

This conclusion was received with applause from all in the pavilion, and calls for 'refreshment' quickly followed. Refreshment always came nearly instantly, when called for in the Fae Realms, and so after only a moment two servers entered the tent, carrying trays bearing goblets and bottles. They had no sooner entered, however, when Jeannie bolted to her feet, held out a trembling, pointing finger, and cried, "You! _You're_ the one!!"

Everyone fell instantly silent, which made the sound of the tray full of goblets being dropped even more startling, as the server who had dropped it, a foxy faced gnome with rusty read hair, went pale and wide eyed.

"I _remember_ you!" Jeannie cried, advancing on him. "They tried to tell me you didn't exist, that I made you up, but I didn't. You _gave_ me those flowers! You _told_ me to 'give them to the boy who comes through your front gate today, and you'll have a nice surprise'. Well it wasn't nice, you little bastard! You fucking ruined everything!"

Staggering to his feet, Rodney glanced from his sister to the gnome to the others in the pavilion. "Is she... are you talking about... what I think you're talking...?" Rodney stammered.

Jeannie didn't answer immediately, and the gnome indicated by her still accusing finger, seemed frozen on the spot. It was, instead, the elf who spoke up next.

"Do you speak of the flowers which caused Dr McKay, in his accepting of them from a member of his family, to break his gift taboo and become exile from the Realms?"

"Yes!" hissed Jeannie, cheeks flushed and eyes too bright.

"Oh my god..." Rodney whispered, hands coming involuntarily to reach for his heart.

"You are called upon to answer this charge, Krestin!" said the dwarf, coming to stand beside the elf. "Does this mortal woman speak the truth?"

At first the terrified creature could only nod, but he knew more was required and finally forced out a strangled, "Yes."

"And, at whose behest was this done?" Elizabeth, who Rodney had not seen stand, put the question now, her voice dark with outrage. Everyone knew that there was still a Truth Geas laid over the pavilion, so that Krestin must either speak the truth or keep silent.

"Jerimus," the gnome choked out. "Jerimus of the Silver Birches, to whom I owed a significant boon." The gnome bowed his head in shame then, though Rodney was sure it was at having been caught, not at having done the mischief he'd been set to.

"Why?" Jeannie implored, having finally dropped her hand. "Why did you have to do that?"

"That," said the elf, who Rodney was beginning to think might be some sort of Fae paralegal, as well as being a warriorress, "is a question for Jerimus, and you both have the right to hear his answer. Already he is called for."

Like the refreshments called for earlier, Jerimus was not long in coming, and naturally, Phinnisti and Parthenius came as well, following him into the pavilion.

"Krestin," Jerimus said, glancing around at the others gathered under the pavilion. "For what reason have you given my name to these folk here?"

"She recognized me, Lord," the gnome said, wretchedly wringing his hands as he glanced over toward Jeannie, "and recalls that it was I who directed her to give the 'gift' to her brother." His gaze shifted now to indicate Rodney, who stood with his arms crossed over his chest, glowering fiercely at Jerimus.

"You again?" the elf remarked haughtily. "Why are you even still here?"

"Because I still have business," Rodney replied. "And right now, that business consists of getting an explanation from you, which is the least of what I'm entitled to at this point."

"By all the Gods, you are presumptuous, Changeling," Jerimus snapped. "You are a mortal, and an exile and you are entitled to nothing, from me or anyone else of the Realms!"

"I fear you are mistaken, cousin," the elf warrioress interjected coolly. "Rodney McKay made an earnest promise to abide by the taboo, and not to accept any gift from a family member, but your actions abrogated the honesty of that contract. He is indeed entitled to an explanation, and very likely restitution as well."

"My actions!?" Jerimus exclaimed. "I have done nothing that has not been done countless times before. Taboos are given to assure that unwanted guests do not return; measures are always taken to make it... certain."

"And yet," Parthenius said now, "these... 'measures' are seldom if ever discovered by those condemned by them, I think. You are caught, Jerimus, and you owe us restitution as well, for our Rodney was very much _not_ unwanted, and it is you who have been presumptuous!"

If anyone had ever asked him, Rodney would probably have said that his 'dads' in the Fae Realms did truly care for him but, being who he was, he'd always had doubts. Generally, he tried not to dwell on the question, but hearing Parthenius' open declaration, spoken with such hurt and outrage, left Rodney a little stunned, and feeling an unexpected tightness in his throat.

Jerimus seemed a bit stunned as well, but his expression was one of infuriated betrayal. "Seryfina!" he cried to the warrioress elf. "Cousin! How can you stand with this mortal against me? You care for these mortals as little as I!"

"Cousin!?" the female elf spat. "Do not 'cousin' me, Jerimus, as you speak such shaming words! Surely I have no especial love for mortals, but surely I do care for the law, as you well know. Would that I could say you shame only yourself, but you shame our whole clan with your actions and words. I chasten you now to mark mine, for you will be clan leader no more when next we gather, if I would have any say."

It was with great satisfaction that Rodney watched Jerimus gaze around the assembled crowd in shock, and see not one sympathetic face.

"Very well," said the highborn elf, frowning as he turned to Rodney. "What would you claim in restitution? I caution you, not to make a claim on my clan's treasures, however, for this act was mine alone."

"I don't want your crappy treasure," Rodney snapped, deciding that good manners were more than Jerimus deserved at this point. "I just want to be able to... to come home when I want."

It was only when Rodney saw Parthenius' eyes grow wide, and Phinnisti's grow bright with emotion, that Rodney realized what he'd said. "I mean," he explained, "Atlantis is my home now, it really is, but here... it _was_ home... It was a good home and I missed it."

"Well said," Pathenius said after clearing his throat. "This would satisfy us as well. You will grant him a Threshold pass, Jerimus, a lifelong one, and we will speak of this affair no more."

"That is a clan privilege," Jerimus glowered. "It is not mine to grant."

"Don't be a fool, Jerimus," said Seryfina, the elf warrioress. "You know as well as I that you have the right to grant such to any individual, with the proviso that you are personally responsible for their actions while within the Realms. If you did not wish to find yourself responsible for this mortal's actions, you should have left his fate to the Gods, instead of meddling in it yourself."

Now Jerimus' glare turned hostile, and it was directed at everyone in the pavilion. "Given that I clearly have no choice, I will comply, but you mark _my_ words: all of you will have cause to regret this, for no good will come of any of it, but most certainly ruin will come to us all."

A number of beings present all made various signs against evil prophecy, though Rodney forbore. He may have been raised here, but he was still a man of science.

"Those who I have granted this privilege of my free will bear the mark on their right shoulders," Jerimus now said, lifting his right hand high, as though to gather energy from the ethyr, "thus you shall have it on your left. It will alter its effectiveness not one whit, but by this I would have it known that I do not grant this privilege willingly."

Rodney rolled his eyes in a look that clearly said 'whatever', and Jerimus then turned Rodney with his left hand, pushing up his sleeve, and clapped his right hand down on Rodney's left shoulder with a single shouted word in Elvish. Rodney felt a flash of burn, but by the time Jerimus had lifted his hand away the burn was gone and the spot only felt a little itchy. He craned his neck to look, but could see nothing, not even any redness. "Can I... touch it?" he asked.

"It is not a tattoo," Jerimus snapped. "It's a charm laid into your skin. It can be made visible with... shallow light."

"Ultra violet!" Radek chimed in with a grin. "Rodney, you have a black light tattoo!"

"Cool!" said John.

"Its not a tattoo!" Rodney snapped back, secretly agreeing with John completely as he brushed his fingers over the spot. He could feel nothing either. What its presence meant, however, was huge.

"So this..." he began, still reeling a bit at the suddenness of it, "this is permanent. You can't take it back?"

"Not unless you abuse it," Seryfina answered for her kinsman, who was sulking, arms crossed over his chest.

"And what would constitute abuse?" Elizabeth asked the question before Rodney did, and possibly phrased it a little more politely than he would have.

"There are only a few ways to abuse such a charm," Seryfina answered. "It allows the bearer to bring guests, and therefore bringing an excessive number of guests with intent to do harm or mischief would constitute abuse, as would attempting to extract power from the charm itself, which is possible if one is desperate and entirely unscrupulous. I do not believe there is any other way to truly abuse this privilege."

Slowly, Rodney began to feel the enormity of it all looming before him. "No tricks? No taboos?" he said, because he just couldn't not ask.

This was, however, apparently too much for Jerimus to bear. "Have I not had my honor impugned enough?" he demanded with a huff, not answering Rodney's question. "I believe I have made my reparations and see no reason I should remain here any further."

"And I see no reason we should have to tolerate your presence any more either, Jerimus," Seryfina said with a sigh. "Please go."

She turned to Rodney as Jerimus stormed out, Krestin the gnome in tow. "No, there are no tricks or taboos, Dr McKay," she said. "This is a restitution, not a loyalty test. Your exile is truly ended."

At last, the elf's words crashed over Rodney like a wave and he swayed on his feet, speechless. It was instead Jeannie who spoke up next, her words intruding into the silence.

"Um..." she said. "What just happened?"

Rodney had been thinking that he was maybe about to sit down rather hard, but instead he now found himself stumbling over to where his sister stood, and enveloping her in a fierce hug. "I'm sorry," he whispered into her shoulder, afraid that his struggle not to cry was a losing one. "I'm sorry I was an asshole to you. It wasn't fair..."

"Oh shut up," she answered, hugging him back just as fiercely, and she _was_ crying, but she was a girl and girls were allowed to cry. "I already said I understood. I just... I wanna try having a brother again, okay? Can we do that?"

"Yeah," Rodney said, voice wavering. "Yeah, I think I'd like to try having a sister too." And as awkward as it was to let himself give way to tears, having all those people come around and crush them into the center of a big group hug a second later meant that no one saw, even if they probably all knew anyhow.

****

Coming back to Atlantis was just every bit the homecoming he'd hoped for, though there were, of course, adjustments to be made. For Radek, there were not so very many, for which he was grateful, as it meant he had the patience and energy had to endure his pack mates' venting spleen over their various travails.

The first day there had been the huge row between John and Lorne, when the Major found out that he was, indeed, being left in charge of Atlantis' military contingent, after having been promised that he would not be. He was only slightly mollified by Sheppard's swearing that he couldn't bear to have anyone else take the job, and was only persueded not to quit when John let slip that there was a promotion in the works for him -a promotion which ended up going through rather more quickly than they'd expected.

They'd all expected Landry to stand in the way, but Landry was being hung out to dry for having read Jeannie McKay into the Stargate program without permission.

"His days at the SGC are definitely numbered," O'Neill replied to the communique in which Rodney had requested that O'Neill send Landry his thanks for bringing Jeannie to the Fae Realms where she could identify the gnome whose actions had brought about Rodney's exile.

"Honestly, I owe the man a debt of gratitude," Rodney'd said, but none of them were sorry that Landry was out of the SGC. The man was a bigot, pure and simple, and there was no place for that, in Radek's estimation, in an organization whose primary purpose was interacting with alien cultures and civilizations.

Thus with Landry out of the way, Lorne's promotion went through without a hitch and now he was Lieutenant Colonel Lorne and much too pleased with himself to complain -much- about his new, permanent, responsibilities. That bit of drama, however, was nothing compared to John's current daily travails, trying to mold the volunteer Fae warriors into something like a disciplined fighting force.

"It's not as if I'm trying to make them follow anything like American military standards," he ranted to Rodney and Radek nearly every evening, in the privacy of their quarters -their new quarters. They were quite lovely, Radek thought, with a room for each of them, plus a master bedroom with a single, enormous bed, a large, comfortably furnished living room, and a fantastic view of the west piers and the sea. Also, the living room was big enough that there was room for John, or Rodney -whoever's turn it was to rant- to pace as they recounted all the ways that various people or agencies were making their lives hell. There was even room for Radek to stretch out his legs as he sat back on the sofa to watch them.

"No," Radek replied reasonably, one evening (this seemed to be his main role in such situations) "but you are asking many of your warriors to form partnerships with... creatures who, until recently, they regarded as dangerous enemies."

"That I could understand and deal with!" John exclaimed, throwing his hands up. "But I can't even get them to show up for trainings on time. They seemed completely unfamiliar with the idea of 'lateness'."

"They probably are," Rodney commented. "If they've lived their whole lives in the Realms, time is sort of... flexible there. No one is ever late for anything."

"Well that's just great," John said, wind going out of his sails as he sat heavily on the sofa next to Radek and Rodney, and they gathered him close. "I have to teach my new recruits about time. Do I need to requisition a bunch of those cardboard clock faces they use to teach little kids?" Rodney made a scoffing sound.

"They'll get used to it," he said. "At least you don't have to work with your sister!"

This had been Rodney's oft repeated refrain, ever since they'd been informed of the SGC's decision to take Dr Jeannie McKay-Miller on as a part time consultant. Radek thought it only good sense, seeing as she was now privy to the existence of Atlantis, and nearly as smart, if not just as smart, as Rodney.

"I don't _have_ a sister, Rodney," said John, which was what he said every time.

"You seemed to be getting along well enough when you were giving her a tour of Atlantis last week," Radek offered.

"That was giving her a tour!" Rodney snapped. "Giving her a tour is fine, but not working!"

"She cramping your style?" John needled.

"No!" Rodney said. "It's just... she's..."

"Not intelligent enough?" Radek suggested slyly, because he knew that wasn't true.

"Of course she's intelligent enough," Rodney retorted. "She is a McKay, even if she does only have two PhDs. Raising that kid probably took some time away from her academic career."

"Probably," John agreed dryly.

"It's just," Rodney tried again. "She doesn't know how we do things here, and... and people actually like her, which, you know, undermines my authority when people expect _me_ to be nicer, though that's patently stupid because I'm still me, even if I am, you know, making up with my sister now..."

"She's _more popular_ than you!" John worked out. "That's what it is, isn't it?"

"What?" Rodney sputtered predictably. "Of course not! I mean, she may have a more pleasant disposition, but I'm the one who's constantly saving everyone's asses, and that's what counts, right? I mean, if you're smart it is..."

"Your people know you, Rodney," Radek soothed, looping an arm around his waist. "And they trust you, and some of us even love you." He finished with a soft kiss to Rodney's cheek. "That's what counts."

This, naturally called for another session on their new, wonderfully spacious bed -which was new enough to still want 'breaking in' as much as possible, in Radek's opinion, and when that was done it was time to join Ronon, Teyla, Carson, Elizabeth, Lorne and Parrish for dinner.

It made for a crowded, but congenial table, and once or twice a month Jeannie joined them too. As much as Rodney complained about her presence, it was clear to everyone -including Jeannie- that he enjoyed spending time, and even working, with her, and Radek definitely looked forward to the frequent occasions that she came to visit Atlantis.

The frequency of these occasions was made possible because of Rodney's free pass into the Fae Realms, and his ability to escort guests. Thus, what might have been a two week trip on the Daedalus, or a very high energy expense opening of the Stargate from Earth, became a twenty minute walk, from the Threshold two blocks from the McKay-Miller's home, through the Realms for a short stroll, and from there to the Threshold in the south tower on Atlantis.

Rodney had to accompany her, of course, and all her luggage had to be hand carried, and due to the Realms... uneasy relationship with advanced technology, high tech equipment which they carried with them tended to have... funny things happen to it on the way. It was never anything truly damaging, but frequently inconvenient -like finding a family of mice nesting in the barrel of a telescope, or finding all the outer surfaces of a mass spectrometer decorated with finely etched images of crystals.

It was that new ability to travel via the Realms, to Earth and back, that had the greatest impact on Radek's life, in the end, and it had taken him some time to realize the full extent of what it really meant. It impacted everyone, of course. It made Jeannie's visits to Atlantis possible, since she seldom had to leave her family for more than a day or two, and it meant that John, whether he liked it or not, was having to take a more active role in Vampire politics.

It seemed that among Vampires, Radek had recently learned, House status came not from size, and lineage, as it did with Wolves, but from the prestige of its individual members. As new and small as it was, House Sheppard's members -namely he, John and Rodney- carried more prestige than many of the most powerful Households. As a result, John would be called away to some clan meeting or 'social occasion' at least once or twice each month, from which he always returned in a mood, and which Rodney and Radek took pleasure in obliterating with copious quantities of sex. It always worked.

Radek was perfectly satisfied to have his little pack be as insignificant as possible, in the greater scheme of Wolf politics, but he remembered the shock he'd felt the day he realized that he could return to visit with Jakub and his old pack on any full moon he liked. Rodney and John had even gone with him -since they could- and hung out by the fire most of the night with old Adelka while Radek ran and hunted and howled with his cousins and took joy in the old magic running between him and the land.

Two days later they were all back in Atlantis and Radek was a brilliant, frowzy little engineer again, cracking the secrets of the Ancients at Rodney's side. He felt like he was having his cake and eating it too.

He felt that way a lot these days, but never more than when he lay in the tangle of his lovers' limbs, touching them, moving with them, taking and giving pleasure until all were sated. What had begun with so much promise in that little bower in the Fae Realms had indeed developed as hoped, and eventually they even got the chance to visit those hot springs that Rodney had mentioned that first morning in the Realms.

The preceding week had been a wretched one, not of crises, but of one irritating mischance after another, and soaking their bodies in the idyllic, steaming hot pool under the stars was the best possible remedy for it. Once they had soaked themselves into prunes, they dragged one another out of the water and onto the soft mossy bank above (in the Realms nature is never muddy or slimy or poking you in the backside with a rock or sharp stick), where they made slow and deliciously leisurely love, and then slithered, like otters, back into the hot water again afterwards.

When they'd emerged again they'd found a simple yet splendid supper of fresh fruit, cheese and miraculously, still warm bread waiting for them. Nearby a fire burned merrily in a small, neat firepit, and beside it lay a large, soft feather bed. When the three of them returned to Atlantis the next morning they felt as well rested as if they'd spent a week in some tropical resort.

This turned out to be a good thing because shortly after they returned they were confronted with a real crisis involving an unholy alliance between the Genii and a group of Wraith worshippers and a truly fiendish computer virus capable of doing serious but infuriatingly random damage to the city. None of them got more than an hour or two of sleep per night over the ensuing week, and Radek found himself confronting endless lines of code one minute, and a knife wielding Wraith worshipper the next.

At the end of it all, however, Radek would recall the frustration, exhaustion, fury and triumph of the crisis, but would realise that there'd been not one moment fear or despair, as he might have felt in the past. He had his pack, his House, his lovers, and they had him -none of them faced anything alone. Moreover, Atlantis had all of them -their brilliance, bravery and unquestioning devotion, and they had her, an ancient, beautiful patroness.

Dr Radek Zelenka, the man, might concern himself with the contributions he had made in his life, to science or to history, but Radek the Wolf cared only for those simpler, yet, he thought, more meaningful things -the loyalty of his pack, and a cause worthy of his devotion. He would know, down to his very bones, that he had all of these things in abundance as he stood with his mates on a balcony overlooking their beloved city, and wanted to lift his head and howl to the stars of his joy. Since he was in his human form, however, he lifted his head to his lovers instead, kissed them with all the love in his heart, and knew that the stars would hear anyway.

-Konec-


End file.
